Go Easy On Me
by amelia day
Summary: Peeta Mellark is one of the hottest stars in the adult entertainment industry. Katniss Everdeen is about to become very familiar with his work. Modern Day AU.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.**

_For Aquarpisc. I hope you love it! _

Thank you to my beta: fnur and to misshoneywell for all their help.

* * *

Part One

* * *

"Lick my stick?"

My head whips around to meet the bright green eyes of Finnick Odair, who smiles seductively toward me with a cocked eyebrow.

"_What?" _

"Sorry" he grins impossibly wider, flashing a peppermint stick in-between his fingers. "Oral fixation."

"Oh..." I take the stick from his hand and hold it up a little in a silent _thank you _before swiping it past my lips nervously. It's only been a few weeks since I started working here regularly and although I hadn't been so stupid as to expect to grow used to it overnight, I have a feeling I will never get used to porn stars approaching me. Especially ones as famous as Finnick Odair who are scarcely dressed and telling me to _lick their sticks. _

Dear lord.

There's a strange feeling I've only experienced a couple times before... it's kinda like everything around me looks shiny and off balance and I can't quite remember _why_ I'm there or _what_ I'm doing...

Standing here, clutching the table set off to the side of me and staring into the sea-green eyes of Finnick Odair has me wondering _what the hell I'm doing here. _

Two weeks ago, I was working at a low-grade coffee shop located ten minutes from my apartment and directly across the street from a _Starbucks. _Our target audience was the inner-city hipsters who felt _Starbucks _was "too mainstream" and chose to choke on our watered-down blends instead.

Business was slow, tips were nothing to write home about and the hours were too long for the wages I was making...

Basically, I hated it. But, it was a job and in a bad economy, a job at a shitty coffee house is better than nothing at all. It paid the bills on my shitty apartment and bought me shitty food and left room for little to nothing else in between.

So after a particularly decent tip day, I decided to wash a load of clothing down at the laundromat - because honestly, soap and water in the kitchen sink only goes so far. The place was pretty empty, with just two other people sitting silently in front of their machines. As I fed the washer my quarters, I noticed from the corner of my eye someone looking up at me over their magazine every so often. From the few glances I chanced, she looked familiar... but I couldn't pinpoint where I'd seen her before exactly, and wasn't about to go ask.

_Probably school, _I'd figured, taking the open seat one down from hers.

Having the balls I lacked, she introduced herself as Annie and made some sort of joke about the prices being _too damn high here. _As it turns out, she actually lives in the same apartment building as me and had recognized me from awkward elevator trips and the few times she found herself desperate for a cup of coffee and the Starbucks line too long.

"That shit _sucks, _just so you know," she chuckled with a raised eyebrow and I actually allowed myself to smirk, nodding in agreement.

We got to talking, bumped into each other in a couple random places over the next couple of weeks and Annie came to learn that I had been desperately searching for a job.

Turns out she had one for me.

She had warned me it was less than ideal, to be the _on-set bitch _but it paid significantly more than the coffee shop and had better hours. Plus, all I had to do was keep a steady supply of food available for the stars, run a few errands here and there and then basically... just... stand around.

"I don't think we've officially met since you've started on set," Finnick says, bringing my focus back to the present and extending a hand in my direction. The gesture seems oddly formal given the circumstances, but I accept it anyway, taking hold of his warm hand in my own and giving it a firm shake.

"Katniss Everdeen," I offer when he doesn't loosen his grip. His mouth hangs half open mid-reply when his name is shouted across the set loudly. Our heads snap in the direction of the voice to meet the gaze of the stage director who curls a finger in Finnick's direction.

"I uh... think you're needed."

"I think you're right," Finnick says with the nod of his head before he throws it back dramatically and places the back of his palm over his forehead. "Oh, the_ perils of being a celebrity."_

I smirk and he rolls his eyes playfully before giving my shoulder a pat.

"Catch ya later, Katniss," he calls out, mid-step. As he walks, he begins to unfasten the belt of his thin robe, allowing it to fall into a lump on the floor. I catch the faintest glimpse of his ass before averting my eyes to the table as a deep heat stings the back of my neck.

"You know... for being on a porn set you sure do blush a lot."

I look up from the bowl of apples I've been eyeing for the past minute to meet Annie's smirking gaze. Her arms are folded across her middle and her left eyebrow is raised in a perfect arch. My hand grabs hold of one of the apples, tossing it back and forth between my palms with a shrug. Because, what could I really say? _Nudity makes me uncomfortable. It's actually hard for me to not close my eyes right now... I don't understand how someone can just walk around with everything... hanging... out._

"You're a tomato!" she accuses with a snort. "What? Do you think he's cute?"

"Wha? Ugh, no! I-"

"Oh just stare, would you?" she nudges playfully before her eyes glaze over slightly and her arms turn to jelly. "He's got an ass carved by the gods..."

"Or a stair master..."

"Annie!" Finnick turns around to call and she laughs when I let out a small and uncomfortable groan at his... _front view. _Her top teeth stick out to clamp down on her lower lip and she swipes her tongue over it slowly before stepping past me to catch up with him.

Annie isn't an "errand girl" like me. Though, when I had made the mistake of asking her, she kindly informed me (after laughing in my face) that there was nothing _wrong_ with being the "errand girl", it's just that she was not one.

"_So... if you're not a... you know-"_

"_A porn star?"_

"_Yeah," _I spoke quickly, my cheeks stinging._ "If you're not one of those, and you don't help out around set... what do you do?"_

"_Oh I help out around set, I just handle more _delicate_ matters than food."_

When I raised an eyebrow at her Annie cheekily informed me that she was Finnick's "personal assistant" which was basically the more acceptable way of admitting to being his "fluffer."

Hand-picked by Finnick Odair himself, Annie has been "assisting" Mr. Odair for over two years now, helping to get him (and keep him) aroused in between his takes.

"My mom thinks I work in an office," she'd snorted, wiping tears from her eyes from what I could only imagine my expression looked like.

God only knows what my mother would say if she learned about my current employment. Not that it's _any_ of her business what I choose to do with my life, but she always seems to pry her nose where it doesn't belong anyway. We haven't talked much since I left home for school and each of our brief conversations and visits have been marked as unpleasant at best. But, I still keep in touch with my little sister, Primrose. She's seventeen now, a senior in high school and has aspirations to move on to med school to become a nurse, possibly even a doctor.

She's smarter than I was back in high school, and has worked hard to earn different scholarships and acceptances into schools across the country. I'm proud of her, and quite honestly relieved for her, that she won't go through the same financial stress to pay off loans and bills that I am currently.

"Quiet on the set!" A stage manager calls out as the lights dim in the background. I hadn't been aware people outside of old Hollywood movies actually said: _quiet on the set._

Plutarch Heavensbee appears a moment later, walking past me briskly, creating a small wind that trails behind him. It took me a while to understand that he was the director, because in comparison to his "help" he's much quieter and mild. But he's perceptive, and when he notices something is off he quickly adjusts it before moving on. Mostly when they're filming, I watch him - partly because it still feels weird to watch two (who am I kidding, sometimes even three or four) people going at it, but also because he gets this strange look on his face as he observes. His eyes kind of squint, and he rubs the side of cheek while his pen taps against the notebook he holds. If something goes wrong, he only holds a hand part way up, and wordlessly production stops. If it's right, he simply allows the actors to follow through.

It's odd, but I find his presence to be an odd mix of comfort and intimidation.

"Where is Finnick?" he wonders, glancing around the open room with furrowed eyebrows.

Johanna Mason, another well-known star in the industry, climbs up on top of the large bed in the center of the "room" and pulls the covers over her legs. The thin piece of lingerie she sports outlines her nipples completely and does little to hide what the bottom half of her looks like. I turn my head in embarrassment, feeling my cheeks and neck sting and go back to counting damn apples.

_Five, six, seven..._

"I don't know, but he better _hurry the fuck up!_" Johanna shouts the last part, intending for Finnick to hear, and plays with a styled spike of her short hair. "Things are getting a little dry on this end."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Finnick huffs, filing out of a room off to the left, Annie follows a minute later. I only let my eyes skim far enough to see his exposed calves and turn back to the fruit, listening as I hear him jump onto the bed, adjusting the covers over him with a loud and dramatic sigh.

"Ready, princess?" Johanna teases and Finnick snaps his teeth at her playfully.

I made the mistake of asking Annie one time if they were a couple, and she laughed at me, barely able to get the words out for several minutes but just shaking her head from left to right.

"_No!"_ she bellowed, like I was _really_ _fucking dense_ for not knowing. _"Just good friends. You should have seen them the first time they had a scene together - like deer in the headlights!"_

"_You mean they knew each other before..."_

"_Yup,"_ she snickered._ "Old roommates. Both tried out and signed for extra cash, never thought they'd end up working with one another."_

Johanna lets out a loud and passion-filled gasp which causes my head to snap up in her direction. Her head cranes back as Finnick laps at her neck, his hands busily roaming over her body as hers stay firmly planted in his hair.

"Ohhh _Keith."_

"Keith? _Really?" _

I turn in the direction of the quiet voice curiously and come face-to-face with a man I've never seen around here before. He has one hand shoved in his jeans pocket and the other reaches out for a donut bite, shoving it past his lips as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"I mean, are they even trying anymore? Finnick doesn't even look like a-"

"_Keith! _Oh fuck,_ Keith!" _

"God," he breathes, his lips pressed together in a hard line. "Whadda shame."

I glance around, expecting someone else to be standing in my proximity but the man only laughs, tugging at his button down shirt before taking a step closer. He stands on the opposite side of the table than me, but now is directly across the way.

"Sorry," he smirks, before his eyes glance down at my hand on top of the apple bowl. "You gonna take that?"

"Erm... no, no, you can have it."

"Probably should. These donuts are trouble."

"Addictive," I agree and he lets out a soft chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

"Right?"

"Shhh!" someone from sound crew hisses, frowning deeply in our direction before moving on to the other side of the set. His smile increases as he takes a bite of the apple, chomping so loudly it has to be on purpose.

He has deep blue eyes that sort of glisten when he tips his head and they catch on the dim lights, and I see faint signs of freckles that paint his fair cheeks. His hair is a deep shade of blonde and sits in an unruly mess of waves on top of his head.

He's pretty handsome. And completely out of my league.

And yet, he continues to stand in front of me, biting into his apple and occasionally locking eyes to which he smiles briefly before I pull away embarrassed. I feel like it's my turn to say something, but nothing in particular comes to mind, so instead I switch my weight from foot to foot and stare down at my fingers tapping against the wood of the table.

"I'm Katniss," I finally breathe and think about adding what I do around here, but judging by the fact that I have not left this damn table's side all day, I'm sure it's pretty obvious.

"Keith," he grins, tossing his core into the garbage can. I look up at him incredulously and he actually lets out a laugh before extending a hand out to me. "Kidding, I'm Peeta. But, you have to admit, I had you fooled for like... point _five _of a second."

"Nice to meet you, Peeta," I smirk. "And I was a little fooled."

"Knew it."

He doesn't offer up his position to me either, but judging on his attire - a plain white shirt, jeans and heavy boots - I'd be willing to guess he's involved in some of the more heavy-duty work around set.

Plutarch raises his hand, signaling to cut rolling and the lights around us brighten. He nods gently, talking lowly to Finnick and Johanna before turning back in our direction and exiting the doors behind us.

Two set-workers walk briskly up on set and greet Johanna and Finnick with thin, white robes similar to the kind Finnick had on before the scene. Johanna says something that causes Finnick to burst out in laughter before they exit off to the side and head in our direction.

"Hey, Peetaaaa," Johanna greets, elongating the 'a' on the end of his name. "What brings you here, thought you had the day off?"

"Can't keep me away, Jo," he shrugs playfully.

"Oh admit it, Mellark. You only came because you were dying to see me _lose my virginity."_

Peeta and Finnick both let out a cackling laugh which goes on for a minute as I continue to stand by awkwardly. I feel weird for staying, but I also feel weird walking away at this point. I mean, Peeta and I were in the middle of a conversation (if you could even call it that, honestly), but either way it'd be rude to just leave... right?

"So, Katniss, what'd ya think?" Finnick asks me suddenly, and when I turn to him I note that his robe has come undone in the front and he stands with it tucked behind his hands (which rest on his hips) flashing his body to me fully.

"Shit!" I curse, turning away and instinctively cupping a hand over my eyes.

"Damnit, you scared her," Johanna snickers. "Cover up! For the love of God!"

"All right, all right," Finnick says, chuckling. "It's safe now Katniss, the anaconda has gone to sleep."

I groan deeply.

"Wait, I'm sorry," Peeta interrupts, throwing his hands into the air. "But are we going to ignore the fact that you just _cover your eyes... _on a porn set?"

"Yeah, what are you, the Virgin Mary?"

"_No," _I roll my eyes, "I just sort of thought I'd only be handling the food. Not... dick."

"What's the difference?" Johanna shrugs. "Both go in your mouth."

Finnick snorts, spitting half his sip of water back into the cup before bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter. Peeta laughs too, but in a tamer way and shakes his head at their "stupidity."

"Thanks... thanks for that Jo."

"Anytime," she salutes. "The sooner Braids here learns that, the better. We've got to break her in."

"I don't need breaking in... I just.. nudity... makes me a little uncomfortable is all," I breathe out, quietly and quickly, hoping that most of it gets lost in my jumbled translation.

"On a _porn set?" _Johanna snorts, taking an apple from the bowl and shoving a large chunk into her mouth. She chomps loudly - portraying the exact opposite of her shy and timid "virginal" character in the movie - and spits with her words. "I'm sorry, but isn't that like... a requirement?"

"Aw, she's our precious little dew drop," Finnick smiles, cupping his hands under his chin and tilting his head to the rest on top of them. "You're like a little baby... all pure and innocent."

I feel heat rising to my face and along the back of my neck as I run a hand over it awkwardly.

"It's all right honey, that'll change real quick," Johanna says, patting my back roughly with sympathy.

"Aw, I like it," Peeta says. I turn up to him, slightly confused and he gives me a slight wink, but not even in a creepy sort of way, almost in a "I've got your back" sort of way.

It's comforting.

He offers me a smile, which I allow myself to return to him easily, ignoring the way my heart has picked up in beats.

* * *

"So, I'll see you at 'The Hob' then?" I hear Finnick's booming voice out in the parking lot as I make my way to the car. It's past nine and pitch black outside, and the air would be completely silent if it weren't for the rowdy group of people who emerged from the building two minutes prior.

"Hey, Katniss! You comin' out?"

I still my steps at the sound of his voice and turn slowly with deeply furrowed eyebrows. Annie runs up to where Finnick stands and nods her head furiously, her loose curls bobbing gently with the movement.

"Katniss _has_ to come! Definitely!" she exclaims with enthusiasm.

I honestly hadn't expected to be invited. Most of the people going out were the stars, and besides them their close friends: like Peeta and Annie. Although I'd been working here a few weeks now, this was my first official day meeting any of them besides Annie. But, since moving away from home, I don't get invited out much and if I'm going to be working with these people for the next few months (or maybe years if I end up moving on with them) I should at least get to know them better, and like them.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah, uh sure, I can come," I smile, playing with the ends of my hair. "I have class in the morning though, so I just can't make it a late night."

"So pure," Finnick teases, slapping a hand over his heart in mock affection. I roll my eyes and he smiles playfully, shooting a finger in my direction. "You know where "The Hob" is, right?"

I nod and he grins widely, nodding his head too.

"All right! See ya there."

Before I turn back towards my car, I catch Peeta's gaze as he eyes me over with a slight smile painted to his lips.

"What?" I ask, a little sharper than I intend to.

"Nothing," he shrugs, digging through his pocket for his keys. "Just glad you're coming out."

"Me too."

* * *

As it turns out, keeping a steady flow of conversation with Peeta is remarkably easy. He's funny, with a quick wit and smart too, always coming up with something that fills any awkward silences that falls between us.

When I first got to "The Hob," it was evident everyone else had already arrived. Almost immediately I spotted Finnick leaning against a wall in the corner, surrounded by two redheads who he readily offers peppermint sticks to. Even through the low lighting I can see the desperation and hunger that laced the redheads' eyes as they sucked and swirled their tongues around the candy suggestively.

Annie and Johanna were both on the smoky dance floor; their hips swaying and gyrating to the thumping music that pulsed from the speakers above us, making even the floor shake with their energy.

I noticed a couple crew members whose names I didn't know sitting at a booth laughing, and some other minor cast members who I faintly recall pushing past me to the bathroom. It took several minutes before I finally found Peeta, surrounding the bar as the tender filled up his glass once more. Peeta's eyes flashed to my own before his lips turned up into a gentle smile and he patted the bar stool that laid directly next to him.

"Another drink?" The bartender interrupts us to ask, pointing his finger between the two of us.

"Yeah, I'll take another beer," Peeta says casually, before turning to me with a raised eyebrow. "You?"

"I'll take a blue blazer," I say, avoiding Peeta's questioning gaze and pulling some money out of my pocket.

"So, you're a whiskey girl?" Peeta snorts once the bartender is out of hearing range. "And on a school night? I'm shocked."

When I roll my eyes, his smile only deepens. He has dimples I hadn't noticed before, though I'm not sure how. They stick out so acutely with his turned-up lips and I don't think I've seen him frown since meeting him earlier today.

"What're you in school for?" he asks a moment later, casualty to his tone.

"Urban Forestry," I say cautiously, carefully eyeing him when the last syllable slips from my lips.

"Oh shit," he teases, though his eye brighten with my admission. "So you're like... a tree hugger?"

"No," I snort, glancing off to the side as the bartender approaches us with our drinks. I push my bills in his direction, but Peeta's hand lands on top of it, handing the man a twenty.

"I've got you," he speaks before pressing the bottle to his lips. "With a job like that I'm sure you're down on cash."

"Jerk," I hiss, willing myself not to smirk.

"No, but in all honesty, I think it's pretty cool."

"You better. It's because of people like me you can breathe," I snort, before shrugging him off with the flick of my wrist. "I know it sounds stupid. My mother thought it was dumb too, but I didn't want to get into something that I _hated _for the rest of my life just because it pays more."

"No, I totally get it," Peeta agrees with the shake of his head. I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically and he holds a hand up in surrender. "Seriously. It makes complete sense. My parents hate what I'm in school for too."

"...Seriously?"

"Yes!" he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Though, I'm sure most art majors parents aren't too keen on the idea."

"Art..." I repeat, my tone rising a little in surprise.

"Yup," he continues. "It was damn cute in elementary school, something to be moderately proud of in middle school, slightly worrisome in high school - because _should I really be wasting _two_ periods on art class, when there's _important_ classes to take? _And by the time college rolled around? Well... it was downright disappointing."

I'm silent through his explanation. He turns his head down slightly and runs a hand over the back of his neck, almost embarrassedly before chancing a look back up at me. His eyes are dull and he sort of shrugs his shoulders in dismissal.

"So, that's why I work... _where I work _part-time. It pays well, helps support my schooling, along with selling some paintings at local craft fairs and things."

"That's why I took the job too," I say, somewhat softly, and our eyes lock for a long moment before his lips turn up slightly.

"Well, I think it's aweso-"

"-Man, you'll never guess what I just got us!" Finnick darts in-between Peeta and I with wild eyes and a large smile. He notices the way Peeta's stare reaches past him and turns to look over his shoulder at me.

"Oh, hey Katniss. I was wondering if you had ditched, haven't seen you all night," Finnick smirks, leaning more comfortably against the bar tabletop.

"Yes, well you've been a little... preoccupied."

He follows my eyes to where they rest on the redhead girls who smile and wave in his direction. His ears turn up and he grins widely, waving in near-lunatic fashion back at them.

"Yeah, that's the whole reason I came over here," he speaks, still slightly dazed. Peeta bangs his hand against the bar roughly, snapping him back into reality. "Dude, I scored us _twins. _Hot, curvy, _sexy twins!"_

I note the way Peeta's cheeks darken and his lips turn down into a slight frown as he looks up at his friend. Finnick's excitement dwindles when it's not reciprocated by his friend.

"To do what with?" Peeta finally asks, and even I can't tell if he's being serious or joking. Finnick runs a hand through his hair frustratedly before resting his arm on Peeta's shoulder roughly.

"To have a tea party, Peeta," he says with heavy sarcasm. "It's to fuck them! What do you think I'm talking about?"

"I'm good," Peeta snickers, patting Finnick on the back. "You have fun though."

Finnick's mouth drops open in pure shock before he regains composure and shakes his head back and forth, nudging me in the side.

"You try to do something nice for someone, right Kat? And how do they repay ya?"

"I don't know why you're complaining," I sigh dramatically. "Peeta just gave you _two_ girls for the price of one."

"Yes, you should be thanking me," Peeta plays along, casting me another one of those winks like he had earlier. I swallow another sip of my drink heavily.

Finnick takes in our words for a long moment before the wide grin he approached us with returns, and he pats both our shoulders with vigor, announcing that he has to get going.

"Have fun, buddy!"

"You must have high standards," I claim once Peeta's eyes focus back on me. I'm not sure if it's the drink or the atmosphere in general that causes me to open up more, but when the words pour from my mouth in almost a sultry manner, I don't feel awkward or embarrassed about it.

"Turning down a twin," I expand. "A _sexy_ one at that."

Peeta snorts, rolling his eyes. "I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Sometimes, but then there are girls who are just universally attractive. I'd consider _that," _I emphasize by pointing over to where the two girls stand. "As universal beauty."

"I wouldn't," Peeta insists, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah, they all look the same."

"Well, they're twins."

"No, _no," _he snickers, shaking his head. "I mean in general. That kind of girl. The too-much-makeup wearers, skimpy clothing buyers, changes their hair color once a week..."

"You seem familiar with the kind."

"You see a lot of bimbos come and go in this business," Peeta snickers, rolling his eyes.

"See, this is why we're crew members and _he's _a cast member," I tell him while nodding over in Finnick's direction. Already he has his mouth wrapped around one and an arm around the other who runs her fingers over his chest.

I turn back to Peeta who wears a puzzled expression, but at the same moment I'm about to ask him about it, a self-confident looking blonde comes up behind him and runs a hand over his back suggestively. He stiffens at the contact and his head whirls around to meet her smirking face.

I look between the two and watch as she slinks an arm around his shoulder and sort of half-sits on his leg. Her skirt is so short I can see her underwear peeking out in her drunken state.

"Hey Peeta," she slurs, pressing a manicured finger under his chin to raise it up toward her lips. The hand which rests around my near empty glass tightens, and I feel sort of stupid for the anger and jealousy which rises inside of me.

"What do you want, Ashley?"

"You look good in jeans," she continues flirtatiously. "I'm not used to seeing you in so much... _clothing."_

Peeta pushes her up from on top of him and when she sort of stumbles reaches out for her arm to steady her. She adjusts her skirt and smiles back at him, wobbling a little as she tries to balance in her heels.

His face is boiling red, though I can't tell if it's out of embarrassment or frustration for his "friend's" current condition. I tap my nails against the bar top impatiently as he points her in the direction of the bathroom after she asks.

"Girlfriend?" I ask with a raised eyebrow when he turns back to me and mumbles an apology.

"_No," _Peeta emphasizes, shaking his head. "Did you not listen to a word I said a moment ago?"

"An ex then?"

"No," he says with a wrinkled nose, shaking his head. "I wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole. She's just... around on set, sometimes."

"In, or on the side lines?"

"Er... side lines," he says, his cheeks turning brighter. "But she wishes she wasn't. She wants to be a star but... she's... not very professional. At all."

"So what does she do?" I ask and it takes a moment for Peeta to answer. When I chance a glance back up at him, he's shifting in his chair almost awkwardly.

"Erm... do you know what a "fluffer" is, Katniss?"

"Yeah," I say, picking up my glass and swishing it around in my hand for a minute. "Annie's one. So, she's one too?"

Peeta nods.

"For who?" I ask, pressing the glass to my lips.

"Um well... for _me," _Peeta deadpans, and the liquid seeps down the wrong side of my throat, causing me to spit and cough in order to force it back up. His eyes widen as he presses a hand to my back, applying force until I can breathe again and motion with my hand for him to stop.

"You're a _porn star?" _I ask in shock, the hand which holds my glass is still shaking. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Peeta places a hand over his heart and frowns dramatically. "Ouch. It's not _that_ unrealistic, is it?"

"_Of course_ you're a _porn star!" _I continue obliviously, and Peeta sort of glances around as people cast us stray looks. "Of course. I mean it makes perfect sense, you're_ really_ attractive, I just... I didn't think-"

"You thought I was on the crew," Peeta says matter-of-factly. "And I'm sorry to change the subject, but did you just say I'm really attractive?"

The warmness I feel on my cheeks from the alcohol intensifies.

"Not just attractive, but _really fucking attractive," _Peeta chuckles, taking another swig of his drink. "You're too kind."

"Shut up," I snicker, though it sort of fades on my lips when he extends his arms and flexes his biceps teasingly. "You're... impossible."

Throughout the night, his eyes sort of search my own - most likely looking for signs of discomfort or disgust, but I keep up my typical facade, smiling at his tense jokes, contributing to the conversation when necessary, until finally he relaxes his posture a little in his seat and takes another long swig of his beer.

I wondered for a while why he never mentioned anything about it beforehand. I mean, Finnick and Johanna both seemed pretty pleased with themselves for the roles they played in the industry, so why not Peeta? You would think you one wouldn't even bother getting into the business if they were going to be embarrassed by it... I mean right now if I wanted to, I could google Peeta Mellark and find one of his... videos.

The idea brings a blush to my cheek, and as Peeta continues on with some story I tuned out minutes ago, all I can picture is what he looks like underneath his clothes, what sounds he makes when he's on the verge of coming...

"Katniss?"

"What?" I snap.

"You've been nodding your head for a minute now," he sort of chuckles, though his expression shows concern. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I say a little too quickly, and reach out for my glass which is now empty. Peeta raises an eyebrow in my direction as I set it back on the countertop and smile a little. "I'm fine."

* * *

I shouldn't do this. It's stupid and childish and I promised myself I wouldn't do it.

I pace back and forth along my kitchen/ living room area, casting sideways glances at the laptop which sits open in front of me, tauntingly. My hand finds its way past my lips and I begin to nervously chew away at my fingernails.

It's been half a week since I first met Peeta Mellark and he told me about his current... position... at "The District." I told myself that night that I wasn't the least bit curious... that his being a porn star didn't bother me and that I _definitely _wasn't going to look him up like some deranged horn-dog.

I groan, my head falling back to look up at the ceiling as I glide my hands across my cheeks tiredly. This is ridiculous, but as much as I try, I can't seem to get him off of my mind. Images of him randomly pop into the forefront of my mind, and refuse to let go. I picture the toned muscles of his back (the ones I've been able to make out through the thin material of his white t-shirts) clenching as he rotates in a rhythmic motion, his firm butt tightening in effort to keep his hips from bucking too hard, his head tilted back in pure ecstasy as sweat trickles down the base of this thickly veined neck...

"This is bullshit," I mutter to myself, as I fall down into the creaking dining room chair in front of my computer. Technically, the laptop is for school work, and I _swear to god _if I pick up a virus looking this stuff up and have to walk twenty blocks to the library...

I sigh deeply, my fingers moving faster than my brain as I pull up _Google_ to type in his name. I only get to "Peet" before: _Peeta Mellark porn-star, Peeta Mellark in 'Our Night In,' Peeta Mellark in 'Summer of Dreams' _and a few other cheesy sounding titles popped up in a "most searched" option. I click the first - Peeta Mellark porn-star - and close my eyes for a moment before peaking through my squinted lashes.

Fuck.

A string of images comes up at the top with the option: _Google images? _but there's also several links to shorter clips available online for free.

_You shouldn't be doing this, _my mind chides as I bite my lip, running the mouse over one of the links. _You guys are friends now. This is so weird._

It's true, Peeta and I have become fairly fast "buddies" as he likes to put it. We just sort of clicked after that night in the bar and for the past several days whenever he's hanging around on set or meets up afterwards at "The Hob" for drinks, he makes it a point to come over, give my elbow a little nudge and fall into an easy flow of conversation.

We also exchanged numbers and are guilty for having spent some very late nights chatting with one another.

But are friends automatically prohibited from watching other friends sex tapes?

_He's a porn-star for crying out loud! _another section of my brain screams. _He gets paid for people to watch these videos._

I click the mouse before I can overthink it any longer and am led to a ten-minute clip from what appears to be a higher-end quality "adult film" called _The Cold Storm._

It starts out fairly mild. Peeta's hair is styled back - so different from the carelessly tossed curls he's sported since I've known him - and he wears a cable knit sweater and some nice looking pants. There's music playing in the background and he leans over the fireplace to adjust a log before a figure in the background clears their throat.

The camera zooms closer into Peeta's face and his lips lift up into that same easy smile I've seen him flash in my direction plenty of times before. His eyes roam up and down and then the camera cuts to a girl who stands in the doorway. Her brown hair falls over her one shoulder in long natural-looking curls and she wears a bright red (and see through) thong with white fuzz lacing the top. The top portion of her outfit - a bra probably two sizes too small and a thin piece of fabric that hangs off of it, opening in the middle to peak a glance at her toned stomach - matches the bottom and some more white fuzz lines the top of her breasts. She also dawns a Santa hat and bright red lipstick.

"Merry Christmas," she whispers.

As the camera pans from Peeta's face, to the girl's face, and back to Peeta's I find my hand gliding across the mouse, pressing it against the fast-forward button, skipping up until the girl is on top of him, straddling his waist and biting at his lip teasingly.

I feel a little guilty for skipping through to the _sex, _but honestly who the fuck am I kidding? I'm sitting here watching porn for crying out loud, and I'm embarrassed to skip through the dialogue?

She pushes him back with force so that his back falls against the plush-like carpet and then rakes her fingernails over his exposed chest. Their breathing is heavy in the quiet room, matched with the crackles of the fire and fake snow falling through the one window in view.

His hands are on her breasts, squeezing and pinching at the covered nipples before she reaches behind herself and pulls the fabric away. He lets out a little breath with her exposed skin and the camera pans to his eyes, wide in what appears to be shock before his lips settle around her firm peaks.

The girl is small, a good several inches shorter than him, but with her face out of the frame, and just her long hair swaying against her back, it's almost easy to picture myself in her position and I can't seem to find a comfortable spot in my chair.

His tongue darts out to lap at swirl around her nipple before he flashes the tiniest hint of teeth and bites down teasingly. I can feel my own heartbeat picking up, my own breath turning shallow as I imagined the kinds of feelings that would cause to course through me.

Images of his tongue, gliding along his bottom lip as we engage in conversation pulses through my mind and I wonder what it might feel like tugging at _my_ lips.

Peeta sort of flips her over, so that they're both resting on their sides and although he keeps one hand firmly planted on her tit, the other is used to prop him up halfway. The girls nimble fingers trace down his exposed side, over the outline of his ribs and down to where a soft patch of hair trails down into his slacks.

She pulls at the button slowly, building suspense and tugs them down, giggling as he lifts his hips to help her. They smile at each other for a moment before their lips draw in and her busy fingers disappear below the cut.

I don't like watching them kiss because her face is in the shot and it sort of ruins the whole experience I've built up in my mind, but it only lasts a second before it's trailing down their heaving bodies to where her fingers glide over his hard flesh.

"Ugh," I moan without realizing and shift a little against the chair, looking for any sort of friction.

He looks to be fairly average, but damnit, is he _thick. _His erection twitches under her feathery touches and I can make out the smooth contours of his veins pulsing lively throughout him. She keeps a steady pumping motion, squealing softly to herself as his fingers ghost over the thinly-clad apex of her legs. His pointer finger focuses on one spot, flicking softly back and forth over her clit, sending her into a sort of frenzy.

Her hips are bucking wildly, and from the close up shot I can see Peeta's tight stomach muscles clenching and unclenching with each passing stroke she makes against him. Her fingers linger toward his tip, swirling around and he lets out an almost primal growl, his free arm lacing around her body, pulling her tighter into him.

He pushes her gently onto her back and falls down on top of her, his hips resting in between her spread legs. He glides his fingers over his dick a couple of times, capturing my attention in a whole new way, mesmerizing my face to the screen, and then slowly presses into her.

"_Ohhh," _they coo at the same time as the tip of him slips inside. He repositions himself and is just about to press in further when the clip stops abruptly.

It's only then that I realize just how silent my apartment is. My breathing is shallow and my hand holds a slight shake to it as I stare at the computer screen in shock.

What? No. That can't be all, it can't be over. I look frantically to where a sidebar broadcasts: _Related Videos _for some sort of "part two" but see nothing that matches up exactly. My elbows rest up against the tabletop and my head falls into my palms frustratedly.

"Fuck!"

* * *

"Adios, bitches!"

When I walk onto set, it has seemingly fallen into chaos. The girl I recognize from the bar that one night (and a couple more since then - Ashley, was it?) throws up a huge stack of papers someone hands to her and rips one of them as they float down around her.

She throws her purse over her shoulder dramatically and struts across the set, slamming anything that dares to get in her way to the ground. The surrounding crew members watch in complete awe, none of them quite knowing what else to do.

"What happened? What's going on?" I whisper as I make my way over to where Finnick, Annie and Johanna stand off a secluded side.

"It seems the ice queen has snapped," Finnick sniffs. "She walked in and quit on the spot."

"On the first day of Peeta's filming," Johanna adds, a touch of humor to her tone. We watch as Ashley tips over a platter of pastries and Johanna lets out a small snort, shaking her head. "Can't go out without a bang, that one."

I remember Peeta mentioning in the past that Ashley wasn't the most professional person around, but... I hadn't known that meant _this. _

In the opposite corner, where his dressing room is located, Peeta sticks his head out, wearing the same thin robe that Finnick and Johanna had worn during their shoots. The grin he sports is broad, opposite of what I'd been anticipating and he rushes forward in her direction.

"Ashley, Ashley, here let me help you carry your things out the door!" Peeta exclaims and Ashley pushes her palms against his chest roughly before sticking her middle finger up in his direction.

"Fuck you, Peeta. You know, you all are going to be sorry that you let me go one day. I _knew_ I had potential to be more than someone's damn _fluffer!" _she eyes Peeta menacingly with the words before tossing back a curled lock of her hair. "But, obviously _Capitol Corporation _has a better eye for this sort of thing... recognizing talent, that is."

"Oh my fuck," Finnick grumbles under his breath.

"You know what, we're going to miss you terribly, really we will," Peeta says, a touch of sincerity etched in his expression. "But, we wouldn't want to hold back your career, so go on little butterfly: _fly! Be free!"_

"Peeta, shut the fuck up and go to your dressing room," Plutarch speaks calmly, pointing in the direction of it. It's the first time I've heard him swear and his face is drained from color with stress. Peeta holds his hands up in surrender, though he can't force the smile away from his face and retreats to the other side of the room.

It's obvious Ashley and Peeta have never connected, even that night at the bar he was thoroughly disgusted with her. But, I guess "connection" isn't the point between a star and their fluffer. It's _porn. _

"Ashley-"

"-It's _Glimmer_ now," she emphasizes, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. I hear someone let out a snort behind me.

Plutarch runs a hand over his head and sighs deeply.

"You're under contract," he grumbles, as if he already realizes all efforts are pointless. And they are. Ash- er... _Glimmer _(what a ridiculous name, even for porn) informs Plutarch that he can go ahead and sue her for breaking her "shitty" contract, she didn't give a fuck, she was leaving.

"So, what'll happen now since she was Peeta's fluffer?" I whisper when I lean back against the wall next to Annie, and she sort of snorts like something is funny.

"What?"

"Of course you're concerned about _that job," _she mumbles back, elbowing me in the ribs. My cheeks heat up with the implication.

"Shut up," I hiss, nudging her back with force. "You're one to talk... I've seen the way you stare at Finnick's dick."

"That's not the point," Annie frowns, stopping mid-sentence as "Glimmer" slams the door behind her, completing her rather over-the-top, dramatic entrance. There's an eerie silence that fills the set for a long moment before a set manager breaks the ice, asking aloud what'll happen for the scene today.

"What do you mean, 'what'll happen with the scene'? It will continue as scheduled. We'll have to hire someone new," Plutarch sighs deeply, pacing back and forth and ordering different people to clean up the trail of messes "Glimmer" has left behind. It's a whole new side of him, this stressed out, loud man and although I know the timing couldn't be worse, I start to awkwardly laugh at the situation ahead of me.

"I suppose I'll just have to fluff myself for today then..." Peeta trails off with a hint of sarcasm to his tone, folding his arms across his chest.

Plutarch rolls his eyes at him, ordering him to be an adult about the situation, that this is _serious. _

"What about Katniss?" Annie asks, taking a step forward before I can reach out to stop her. I don't think my legs could move if I wanted them to right now though and I feel as though I'm shrinking as every pair of eyes in the room lands on me in question.

"...What about her?" Plutarch asks, the dots not quite connecting in his mind.

"Well, why couldn't she be Peeta's fluffer?" she asks steadily. "I mean, at least until we can find a replacement."

My eyes press past Annie's mischief ones and land on Peeta's where he stands silently next to Plutarch. His look as wide as mine feel and I swear I see a light hint of color stain his cheeks.

_He doesn't want this. He doesn't know how to say no but he doesn't want it. _

"Um, uhm..." I try counteracting Annie, but what can I say? Somehow I feel like _yeahhh, no thanks... _won't cut it. But, there is no seemingly polite way around this.

"Katniss, come here," Plutarch says, his normally soft voice back as he curls a finger at me. "Everyone else, I'm sure there's something you could be doing right now."

Everyone scrambles simultaneously for something efficient to do as I slowly make deliberate steps in Plutarch and Peeta's direction. By the time I'm standing in front of them, Peeta's eyes are downcast, unable to reach mine and he shifts on his feet awkwardly.

"Is this something you're interested in, Katniss?" Plutarch asks, folding his arms. "I've seen you and Peeta around on set... seems like you get along well enough."

I search his face for further implication than friendship but find none behind his guarded eyes then turn toward Peeta, whose eyes are slightly narrowed up at the director.

"I uh..." What kind of question is "is this something you're interested in?" anyway? Am I interested in sucking _Peeta Mellark's dick _multiple times a day and getting paid for it?

Pretty sure I'm interested.

But how am I supposed to _do it_ if I can't even _say it_ in front of him?

"The raise is pretty steep from what you're making now," Plutarch adds. "And, as mentioned earlier, you could consider it to be a... trial run of sorts. You'll be the fill-in until we can find someone new or we decide you're working out."

There's an awkwardly long pause.

"Sound good?"

I glance up at Peeta - whose eyebrows are slightly furrowed - and wait for him to say something first. Because without his approval, what's the point? If I can't "do the trick" for him then there's really no reason to put both of us through the embarrassment of trying and failing.

Peeta shrugs his shoulders after a moment, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh.

"Well, it's better than fluffing myself," he mumbles and I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult.

* * *

Upon Plutarch's demand, Peeta takes me to his dressing room and holds the door open until after I slip inside. I stay facing away from him until I hear the door lock shut and Peeta let out another heavy sigh.

"Peet-"

"Kat-"

We both pause and let out a somewhat nervous chuckle before I throw an arm out in his direction, my eyes focusing on the locked door behind him.

"You first."

"This is weird," he groans, leaning against the wall and running his face through his open palms. "Do you feel uncomfortable? Because if this is a money thing, we can just hide out in here for a few minutes and he'll never know the difference."

"He might, if you don't come out hard," I shrug and Peeta's tense expression begins to melt. He lets out a smile and steps closer until he's standing directly in front of me.

It's been three weeks since I watched that first porn video featuring Peeta. I swore to myself it'd be the last, but of course it wasn't, because every morning I'd go into work with a fresh outlook on the entire situation... and every evening after work I'd come home horny and frustrated from daydreaming about him taking me against the wall... against the table... on the floor... in the set... _anywhere..._

And there I'd be, sitting in front of my computer screen, pulling up my favorite clips from his videos.

"We're friends," I nearly cringe at the word. _If only he knew I've paused the screen when they close-up on his dick and just _stare_ at it for five minutes... _"Right?"

He nods, his eyes falling closed for a long moment.

"But... we're also co-workers. So, if we just thought about this as business... it might be..." I trail off under Peeta's hot stare, my breath coming out shakily and my hands picking up a nervous twitch to them.

"Okay, you're right it's a little weird," I admit and Peeta lets out a barking laugh.

"Listen, Katniss... I don't want to put you in a weird position. If you're not one hundred percent okay with this-"

"-Well, are you?" I retort, pulling his words up short. His mouth opens and closes and his freckles seem to pop out more on his face under the red glow of his cheeks.

"Yeah," he shrugs, playing off casualty and the word sticks in the forefront of my mind for a minute. He wants this. Isn't that all the answer I needed in the first place? Confirmation?

"But, I'm not talking about _me, _I'm talking about y-"

His words cut off with a short grunt as I reach a hand in between us and grab hold of him in my palm. His definitive answer was all I needed to restore a little bit of confidence, and I am sick of beating around the bush. He wants it (or at least doesn't mind it) and I want it... so who the fuck cares about anything else?

"K-Katniss," Peeta stammers, his words coming out short. His chest sort of heaves with my hand resting between his legs and slowly, I can feel him beginning to harden underneath my touch.

"Sit down," I command, rather than suggest and Peeta moans a little before moving quickly over to the long couch set up. He spreads his legs a little, watching intently as I kneel down in-between them, removing the robe which covers his bare skin.

His dick lays flush against his left leg, hardening slightly upon the cool contact of the air. I waste no time in wrapping my hand around him and begin pumping him back and forth. I'm not quite sure what else a "fluffer" is supposed to do... so I stay silent, never taking my eyes away from my hand gliding along him.

He _is_ thick. Similar to how I imagined and my small hand hardly wraps around him fully. I give him a slight squeeze, feeling the rise of his veins and hear him let out a small noise above me. When I chance a glance up, his eyes are focused down on me, hands clenched tightly around the sofa. My lips turn up into what I hope is a reassuring smile which he returns a second later, shakily.

"You're... _really_ good at... this," he groans, his breath hitching as I run my palm over his tip, like I remember the girl from the video I watched doing. I reach down and cup his balls with my other hand, smirking to myself as his head tilts back into the couch.

"Ohhh _fuck,"_ he breathes, and then his head snaps forward with wide eyes. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean-"

"Shhh," I say, trying to hide my laughter as I turn my head into my shoulder. "What? Does that surprise you?"

His eyes light up with recognition and he shakes his head a little, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I know a thing or two," I say, continuing. "I uh... had a pretty serious boyfriend back in high school, so..."

I trail off, shaking my head a little to myself, because I can't understand why the hell I'm bringing up Gale Hawthorne in this moment of them all. If Peeta notices, he doesn't say anything or even acknowledge it.

I'm not sure how long I'm supposed to go on, but I know part of my job is to relax him so he doesn't seem tense on set... but looking at him now it's as if all his muscles are clenched up in knots. I focus on his stomach, where I can easily make out the contours of each defined muscle and smoothly run my fingernails over them. I settle on the spot below his belly, where a thin line of hair trails downward. I twist my fingers in it, scratching gently and smiling to myself as his upper body bucks forward and he lets out a deep sigh, his hips wiggling unintentionally on the couch.

"Shit."

"Hey," I whisper, my own breath catching as his eyes bore into my own. His pupils are so wide that the blue in his iris's are hardly visible. "Relax."

"Kay," he mumbles.

"Am I doing all right?" I ask, and before the words are out he's shaking his head vigorously up and down, eyes still clenched shut.

"Fantastic... just _uh_... a little quicker."

"Okay," I whisper, gliding my hand along him with more speed. His breathing turns shallow, and although his muscles seemed to relax for a moment, they're screwed tight again, all the way down to his calves. I watch his toes curl and uncurl into the carpet before he lets out a low growl, his hips rocking irregularly into my palm.

"Oh fuck... ahhh... _Katniss!" _

I watch in shock as Peeta begins to cum without warning all over his tight stomach and my palm. My hand continues to milk him through his orgasm, as if I'm in a trance, and my eyes cannot look away from his thrashing face.

Slowly though, his moans of pleasure turn into those of agony as he looks down at his stomach in horror, his face redder than I've ever seen it before.

When his breathing stills, the air is silent.

"What... what the fuck just happened?" he finally asked, his voice shaking. "Shit."

"Peeta..."

"I swear to God this doesn't happen!" he says, as if needing to assure me. "I... I don't know why..."

"Okay, okay, calm down... everything is going to be fine," I tell him, raising my hands up in surrender as he runs his through his hair.

"What the fuck are we going to do? They're going to come in to get me any minute."

"Well, that's okay, we just need to get you hard again," I say impulsively, taking hold of him and gliding my hand up and down him quickly. He gasps loudly, his thighs instinctively pressing together as his hand jumps to close over mine.

"No, I... it's sensitive, you can't do that," he hisses. "I need to recover. _Damn, Everdeen."_

"I... I'm sorry," I say in-between inappropriate fits of giggles. Peeta looks down at me with wide unbelieving eyes before his mouth drops open slightly.

"Did... are you _laughing_ at me?" he tries sounding serious, but the rising smile on his lips does little to help his case. "This is very serious business, you had _one job!"_

"Yeah, and apparently I did it a little too well."

His dark tinted cheeks brighten as he rolls his eyes playfully, pushing himself further back into the couch and running his hands over his head as if he were tired.

"You have no idea," he groans into his hands. "No idea the effect you can have on someone."

* * *

So, this was a drabble request on tumblr from **aquapisc **that sort of got out of control and is now a mini-story. It'll be three chapters long. Thank you for reading! :) Find me on tumblr: finnickshardtrident.


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.**

Big thanks to my beta fnur for her awesome work with this chapter. And of course to Aquapisc, who planted the idea in my head to begin with.

* * *

Part Two

* * *

"Holy shit, you cannot drive for anything!"

"Um, your life is in _my_ hands right now," Peeta says, sticking his tongue out in concentration. "So, if I were you, I'd shut it."

"Ugh," I groan, overdramatically and fall back into the couch loudly. I tuck my legs up off to the side of me and kick Peeta's leg playfully. "Next time, let me handle this kind of shit."

"Simmer yourself, Everdeen."

"I'm sorry, but when you told me to bring over _Left 4 Dead 2 _I was under the impression you'd _played_ before."

"And she's a shit-talker too!" Peeta snickers, shaking his head as he moves his fingers along the joystick and buttons of his controller.

I glance down at the digital clock flashing underneath his large television screen and read the time as _2:45am. _Well shit. When we ditched the others after work we'd told ourselves we'd only play for an hour... two _maximum._

It'd be pretty embarrassing for them to find out that we skipped out on drinks at "The Hob"to run around being chased by zombies for nearly four hours.

"What are you _doing?"_ I groan, planting my face firmly into my palm. We've been trying to get _unstuck_ behind a large rock for nearly two minutes now. I think I actually see a sweat break out along Peeta's forehead. It only takes a few moments for the zombies to catch up and start tearing away at the door trying to get in.

"Now you've done it," I mutter as Peeta continues to helplessly back up and re-slam into the boulder. I watch as my life begins to dwindle before my eyes, the zombies having ripped the passenger door off and readily attacking my player.

I thrash around the short knife I've accumulated, my controller vibrating as I move it dramatically from left to right, my body slightly slanted.

"Fuck this," I grunt, pushing past the few zombies remaining and running in the opposite direction of the truck.

"What!" Peeta bellows so seriously that I actually begin to laugh. "You just left me!"

"What, are you and your porn star legs too good to run? We have to ditch the truck, lazy ass. Come on!"

"Fuckkkk you," Peeta speaks absently, abandoning the truck and running hastily to catch up with me. "And I'm not lazy, just practical. The truck woulda been quicker."

"Yeah, not if we're dead."

"Well, they were attacking _you_ not me," he snickers. "You were sort of like the bait. Thank you for your courage and sacrifice."

"Pause," I say, pressing the button before he can refute it. The game freezes and I stand up, stretching my back out and twisting from side to side to crack it. "I need a drink."

"Bring me something."

"Nope," I call out, adjusting my top which has ridden up. The sweats he let me borrow are a little big and ride low on my hips, making the gap distinct. I note the way Peeta's eyes trail over my form before he turns down to his cell phone, checking it for messages.

"Damn," he calls out as I make my way into his kitchen. "How is it three in the morning already?"

"You know what they say," I grumble, loud enough for him to hear as I look through his fridge for something to eat. "Time flies."

"When you're having fun," he finishes, appearing in the doorway between his living room and kitchen. He leans against the frame and flashes me a tired smirk.

"No, I was going to say time flies when you're hanging out with a hot girl... but I guess the two sort of go hand-in-hand."

"Some would say," Peeta rolls his eyes, though his large grin gives away any front he tries to play up. "Fuck, I need to sleep."

I toss him a water bottle and take a swig of my own, hopping up on top of his countertop. It's been two months since I started working for _The District _and nearly a full month since I began "fluffing" Peeta for his scenes.

It was definitely weird at first. Peeta and I both struggled to find ways to keep the awkwardness we were experiencing at bay. It surprised me that Peeta was even a little uneasy about the situation... because shouldn't he be used to this kind of thing? Random women (and men) staring at his dick? But maybe it was because we had become such good friends. It's sort of like Annie said about Johanna and Finnick, how they were like deer in the headlights during their first scene together.

But this should have been a little different, I'd think. Johanna and Finnick were old roommates... they knew one another much longer than a _month_.

Even though the idea of Peeta being a little shy with me staring down his junk confused me, it did make me feel a little better, because it made me nervous too and had he been cocky I'd only grown more uneasy.

For the first couple nights, we avoided one another after work. I wasn't exactly pleased by the arrangement, but I also wasn't keen on the idea of following him around like a lost puppy dog, or beg him through text to message me back. I felt pathetic for even thinking these thoughts, let alone following through.

So on the fourth night, when Peeta approached me as I was gathering my things, I was a little taken back. His tap on my shoulder had been delicate, so soft I barely felt it and spun around quickly nearly right into him. My body stiffened at the sight of his chest before me and my eyes roamed over the planes of him before meeting his eyes embarrassedly.

"Sorry," I mumbled, turning my head and preparing to duck out past him.

"Katniss, wait... I wanted to talk to you, about... us and... this."

I let him. Peeta told me he didn't want things to grow weird between us just because of my new position. He admitted he was happy I was able to get a raise and was sure it'd help out with school and my bills and above all else that was what was important.

"So what if you've seen my dick?" he finally shrugged. "I mean, you could just as easily _Google _it, right?"

I felt fortunate for the dimly lit area to hide my profusely blushing cheeks, because his tone hinted at obvious teasing. _Oh god, if only he knew he now appeared as #4 in my "most searched" log._

"Point blank," Peeta said, clearing his throat when I didn't chime in with his laughter. "We're adults here. So, what do you say? Friends?"

It was easy to fall back into our easy friendship. Peeta and I shared more similarities than I can remember sharing with any of my other friends. And the fact that he'd rather give up going out to play several rounds of _Left 4 Dead 2_ was sort of like icing on the cake.

"So tell me," Peeta yawns with a playful glint to his eyes. "Is it weird that we're playing video games right now, but in like... seven or eight hours, you'll be playing with my dick?"

I do a double-take in his direction, my eyes wide with shock at his words and almost immediately he lets out a choking fit of laughter. I frown, crossing my arms as he actually hunches over, using his leg and the wall off to the side of him for support. Well two can play the _shock value_ game.

"Not really," I shrug, indifferently. "It's only weird if you come all over me..."

Just as soon as his laughter appears, it dies on his lips and he turns up to me with widely spread lips and raised eyebrows.

"Hey!" he accuses, frowning as I repeat him mockingly. "That was _one_ time. Not like I've done it since."

And I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little disappointed he hadn't. But of course I realize it's ridiculous to feel that way.

"So... do you wanna just like... crash on my couch?" Peeta asks, picking something nonexistent off of his shirt. "It's pretty late."

His eyes meet mine after a long moment of staring at the floor and he flashes me a sideways half-smile, running a hand through his messy curls.

"Sure."

* * *

_Plutarch is thinking of using you as Peeta's official fluffer. I overheard him talking about it earlier with a couple people._

I stare at the message from Annie for so long that I have to press the screen three times to get it to re-light up. She's down on the set currently, while I'm stuck in the school's library, working on a biology lab final due at the end of the week.

When I don't respond immediately, another message comes in from her explaining it's nothing set in stone, but he'll probably want to talk to me tomorrow morning when I come in.

I type out a reply six or seven times, unable to find a good way to respond. I'm not surprised by her message, it makes perfect sense. I'm here, I know what to do, so why hire anyone else? I have to admit it sort of bugged me that he had even been looking for someone new, which I of course knew I had no right to feel... but it didn't stop the hot fits of jealousy from rising up inside of me.

"Katniss?"

"Huh?" I ask, jumping a little to meet the eyes of my lab partner, Madge Undersee. One of her sculpted eyebrows are lifted up at me in confusion and her pursed lips pull up into a slight smirk as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Everything all right? You seemed a little... flustered."

_Shit._

"Yeah, yeah," I say, trying to brush the situation off. "I'm fine."

Madge is a nice enough girl with a quiet personality that melded well with my own. She minds her own business and has a small group of people she considers to be her "friends." When we met this year in Biology, we kind of came to an unspoken agreement that we'd be lab partners for the semester. It worked and we tended to get more done than the other rowdy classmates we shared a room with.

"Just a work-related text," I say, when I notice her still watching me curiously.

"Oh, are you still working at that coffee shop? I haven't seen you the past couple of times I've been in."

"Um, no," I laugh sort of awkwardly, tugging at the bottom of my braid. "I quit a couple months ago."

Outside of school, Madge wasn't much of anything to me, really. We never made plans to "hang out" and I only just added her into my list of contacts on my phone because of this project. But, she has this way about her that makes you want to _talk_ and I've found myself on more than one occasion wondering why the fuck I just mentioned _that_ to _her. _

Kind of like that time I mentioned "meeting a guy" at this bar...

And the three or four _other _times he's come up since.

I never mention his name though, and am happy she hasn't asked for it. "Peeta" isn't exactly among the common names and although I don't peg Madge for the type to watch porn, I'm sure she wouldn't peg me for the type to be _working_in it.

I was enraged with myself for even bringing him up and weary of her for a while, because surely someone that good at getting another to spill secrets has a _motive_, but Madge never seemed to, and if she repeated anything I told her, it never got far enough for me to hear about it.

"That's awesome, I remember you mentioning you didn't like it much," she chuckles, tapping her pencil against the notebook in front of her, littered with her neat handwriting. "Did you find a new one or are you just focusing on school for now?"

Madge's father is a senator, and even though I _know_ I've mentioned before that I'm living on my own, supporting myself fully, I think she forgets that not everyone has _Daddy_ to pay for their schooling in full and support them throughout the process.

I don't hold it against her though. Ignorance is sometimes bliss.

"Um..." I say, licking my lips nervously. "Something new."

I look down at my notebook intently but can feel Madge's eyes boring into the top of my skull. When I do chance a look up, she's staring at me expectantly with a raised eyebrow.

"Katniss?"

"What?"

"Are you hiding something?" she sort of smirks, her eyes darting from my phone back to my eyes and I can feel myself growing hot under her gaze.

"Um, no," I say as firmly as I can manage.

"Uh huh," she challenges with a sarcastic edge to her tone. She pushes a piece of hair behind her ear as she moves her chair closer to my own, leaning in secretively.

"I'm even more curious now."

"There's nothing to be curious about," I hiss, doing nothing to defend my case. I've always been sort of an open book when it comes to lying and wear all the tell-tale signs of it in my expression.

"Really?" she snorts. "If that were the case, you would have just told me."

I scowl in her direction, hoping for her to just _drop it_. Of course she doesn't, and shoots me the same look back, tapping her pencil against her notepad, annoyed.

"Fine," I huff, fiddling nervously with the end of my braid. "I... Madge you can't tell anyone, I swear to God..."

"I'm not going to," she says, as if she's almost offended before urging me to continue with the flick of her hand.

I end up telling her everything. I keep waiting for her to stop me, to tell me it's disgusting or be at least a little shocked or _something_, but I just keep talking and she just keeps staring at me with that unreadable expression until finally I run out of things to say.

For a long moment, Madge doesn't say anything at all.

"You asked," I finally snap, self-consciously, suddenly worried that she won't keep her end of the deal and who she might tell or who it might get back to. Would it affect my grades? Surely that's illegal, but it would that stop my professors from finding _something_? I'm ready to make a defense when Madge's eyes light up knowingly and she sticks a finger out in my direction accusingly.

"Wait... so that guy you've been talking to," she says slowly, the pieces beginning to form in her mind. "Is he from... work?"

My silence says more than words probably could.

"Oh my god," she whispers, almost dazed. "Is he..."

I wince.

"Oh my _god! _You like a porn star! You're dating a porn star!"

"Shut up!" I hiss, looking around to make sure no one has heard her raising voice. She clasps a hand over her lips with a chuckle, her eyes still wide with new-found knowledge.

"Oh my god," she whispers.

"We're not going out," I correct, shaking my head. "That's... unprofessional or something."

"It's porn," Madge deadpans.

"It's still my job. And his and... plus, it's not like that."

The everlasting smirk on her face deepens.

"It's _not," _I insist.

"Fine," she agrees, raising her hands in a truce. "Then I guess you wouldn't mind my looking him up, would ya?"

My head snaps up in her direction and I feel my cheeks heating for reasons other than embarrassment.

"Weirdo," I try teasing, but my voice comes out a little harsher than I intend, causing her to cast a double-take in my direction from where her eyes rest on her phone. _She can't be looking him up right now, could she?_

It's stupid and irrational to feel upset over this. It's his _job_ to have girls staring at his dick.

_And it's definitely not hard to find him, _I think with a hint of annoyance.

_But it doesn't mean I _like_ it. _

I glance down at my phone as it vibrates again.

"Is that him?" Madge asks excitedly and I roll my eyes a little, shaking my head no. It's Annie and she sends me three question marks in response to my lack of reply to her news.

_Sorry._ I apologize. _Class. That's good news :)_

A minute later, she replies.

_Thought you'd enjoy that. Have fun tomorrow ;)_

* * *

The air is tense from the moment I make it onto set, almost to the point of it being unbarable. I watch as people wordlessly glide around me, busily working to prepare things for the day.

"Incoming," a voice sounds from behind and I shuffle to the side as a familiar stagehand passes by with a tray of pastries and a quick nod of thanks.

I frown deeply with furrowed eyebrows, looking for Peeta or Finnick and Annie in their typical spots: leaning up against the wall or glancing over the selection of snacks lined up along the table, but they're nowhere to be found.

I'm not surprised at all by Peeta's absence - he's up first scene today - but Finnick and Annie should be hanging around somewhere... unless they decided to take the morning off... Finnick isn't technically scheduled until late afternoon.

"Strange," I mumble under my breath, crossing my arms and shuffling along the outskirts of the building, unsure of what I'm exactly supposed to be doing with myself.

"Tell me about it," someone breathes, their voice tickling the back of my neck. I jump in surprise, turning sharply to come face-to-face with Johanna. She smirks, folding her arms across her middle and leaning up against the wall. I hardly recognize her without all the makeup and her hair laying flat against her head rather than done up in the "glamourous" spikes I usually find her sporting. She digs into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulls free a cell phone, glancing at the lit screen for messages before turning back to me.

"Weird seeing the place as a ghost town, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I grumble, relaxing a little. "Why is that, exactly?"

Johanna simply nods her head in the direction of one of the dressing rooms across the way from where we lean. The door is shut tightly but beneath the crack at the bottom, I see light seeping through.

"Who?" I mouth.

"Clove. She's a real treat to work with," Johanna snorts. "Bet Peeta's ready to shoot himself 'bout now."

"What, they don't get along?" I ask and she snorts again, rolling her eyes with the slightest shake of her head.

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one."

"Okay..." I trail off, eyeing her dressing room door as it swings open. Johanna stands up a bit straighter and turns in the direction of the exit.

"I'm going to get a coffee, you want anything?"

"No, but there's coffee right over here, you know," I say, pointing in the direction of the large thermoses sitting at the end of the tables. Johanna snickers, casting a wave in my direction from behind.

"Godspeed, Kat."

"Let's get this over with," a small woman stalks out of the room past some stylists, tightening the flimsy strings of her robe and pulling at her pin-straight hair frustratedly. "I have better things to do than sit around and stare at Mellark's limp dick."

"Always a pleasure, Clove," I hear Peeta speak somewhat monotone before he protrudes out from the room he's been conveniently hiding in. He leans against the doorway, his face heavy with stress as he rubs his temples thoughtfully.

"For you? Definitely. But for me, it's a completely different story," she scoffs, whizzing past him without so much as a second glance. His eyes open as she passes by, watching in disbelief as she stomps away before his eyes flicker to where I stand and soften incredibly. He casts me a half-hearted smile with the faintest shrug of his shoulders as if to excuse her actions.

My own eyes float back to where she stands over the espresso machine Johanna had refused to use, eyebrows furrowed and pressing buttons furiously. Her face seems to be permanently etched into a frown.

The longer I stare, the more familiar she becomes until I finally place her as the girl who has starred in plenty of the videos I've found online of Peeta.

Yes, it's definitely her.

She looks different on screen... softer somehow. More innocent and kind and pure.

_She's playing a part in those dumb movies, _I remind myself, still unable to wrap my mind around her new persona. Its weird standing so close to her after seeing her... _under_ Peeta so many times.

"Katniss," Peeta calls out somewhat gruffly and my glazed over eyes flit up to meet his. He motions for me to come over to where he stands with a raised eyebrow and the faintest twitch of his head. I oblige, taking careful steps across the room to where he stands and ignoring the intense gazes that bore into the back of my head as I pass Clove and her gang.

"Come on," Peeta mumbles when I've made it close enough to him, opening up the entryway to his room wider before allowing me to pass through and following close behind. He shuts the door quickly, turning the lock on it before facing me with a deep sigh which turns into a groan as he pulls at the roots of his hair.

"I _hate_ her," he grits out through a clenched jaw.

"You can't ask not to work with her?"

"No," he scoffs. "They don't give a shit about personal preference. Plus, she's popular... though I couldn't begin to tell you why..."

"_Be nice,"_ I chide playfully, biting my lip to keep from laughing and he rolls his eyes before taking a couple steps forward.

"You don't understand. There's a reason no one sticks around when she's on set. Not even Finnick will come in."

"They just leave you?" I ask, sitting down on the edge of his couch.

"Yeah," he snorts sarcastically, falling down beside me. He splays both his arms across the back of the couch, gripping my shoulder with his one and using it as leverage to pull me into him closer until my shoulder hits his hard chest. The heat of his skin on my own is almost unbearable and as I breathe deeply, my nostrils are invaded with his comforting musky scent.

"So, thank God I've got you around, huh?" he breathes quietly. I glance up, surprised to see him staring at me intensely with a surprising amount of sincerity.

I shift in my spot as a familiar knot forms in the pit of my stomach and the space between my thighs grows warmer.

"Uhm, okay," I say, clearing my throat, finding it difficult to remember what it is I'm supposed to be doing anyway.

_Handjob... er um... your _job._ Right. My job. _

"Well... the sooner we finish up the sooner we can getcha out there and this can all be... behind... you..." I start to trail off as I notice the way his lips curl up into a playful smirk. "...What?"

"Nothin, you're just funny is all."

"Don't be a jerk," I smirk, ignoring the way my cheeks instinctively grow warmer with his words and pressing his legs further open so that I can sit in-between them. He's already stripped down to his underwear and as I trail my hands up his exposed thighs I allow my fingernails to scrape along his skin, twisting in his coarse hairs the closer I get to the edge of his boxers.

His smile quivers slightly as he helps me move his last garment of clothing down past his calves and kicks it off of his feet.

Immediately I grab ahold of his cock, pumping it up and down in my palm a few times. I keep my eyes downcast, biting my lip in order to keep my expression neutral at his current state of arousal.

_Or lack there of... _my mind chimes in sourly.

Yeah...

I've never seen him quite this...

"I'm sorry," he sighs, his head falling back against the wall with a heavy thud. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"Shh... relax," I order, squeezing a glob of lubricant into my palm and running it along the underside of his cock. I give him a few more tight-fisted pumps, making sure to pass over his tip with each upstroke and use my other hand to roll his balls around playfully.

Several minutes later, he's still hardly half-mast.

"Katniss," he tries in a barely audible whisper.

"This isn't... it's not doing it for you?" I ask embarrassedly running my hand up to scratch along his belly before coming to a rest by his hip which I give a little squeeze.

"No, _no... _shit_" _he assures with a slight wince, shifting his hips a little with another deep sigh. His hand comes to find my braid, resting over the side of my shoulder, and he tugs at it gently, moving the tip of it around with his forefinger. "It's not you, I promise. It's just... Clove _really_ gets under my skin and I just feel antsy every time we have to work together. It's hard to... concentrate on anything else."

"Oh," I reply, wincing a little at the relief that's evident in my tone. But judging by the look of pure distraught etched in Peeta's expression, relief is far from his mind.

I look down at my hand, still lazily pumping at him and frown. It's simply not doing the trick.

I look up at him, conjuring my best smile before patting his thigh reassuringly, rubbing up and down it before urging him to close his eyes and focus on breathing through his nose. He does as I instruct, tilting his body back further into the couch and gripping some of the material in both of his hands.

I glance at the door, confirming its locked status before turning back to Peeta's dick which lays lifelessly against his left thigh. I pick it up in my hand again, tickling his skin with my fingers before holding just under his crown with my forefinger and thumb.

I bend down closer to him and run my slightly-parted lips along his lower belly and hips, allowing the breaths coming from my nose to tickle him as I make a clear trail downward.

"Just relax," I whisper against him, daring to let my tongue dart out and taste the skin where his leg and groin connect. He gasps just slightly, his eyebrows lifting up in surprise although his eyes remain closed. His lips part evenly and he lets out a soft sigh as my tongue meets the base of his dick.

I run my tongue slowly up his semi-erect member, stopping to give a teasing swirl to the tip. His breath hitches at the surprise contact and his body gives a small lurch before his head snaps up to make eye contact with me.

I feel the corners of my lips twitch up as I wrap my lips fully around him, dragging my tongue along his flesh as my hand pumps in time with the slow rhythm.

"Katniss?" he asks throatily and already I can feel him beginning to swell quickly in my palm. "What're... _oh fuck."_

With one last tentative lick I release my mouth's grip on him and smirk, pumping him to full-mast with ease.

"What?"

"Nothing," he promises, breathing hard through his nose. "Just keep doing _that." _

His hand, formerly clenched around the material of the couch, reaches up to run itself over the back of my head. He guides me closer to his cock, letting out a shaky moan as I take him in my mouth once more.

I reach the hand that's not busy pumping him down to cradle and tug gently at his balls, feeling the moan of appreciation vibrate through his chest.

Having never actually given him anything other than a handjob before, I'm not entirely sure how long I'm supposed to go before it's _too_ far, so to be safe, I pull my lips away from him right as he begins to pick up a steady throb.

He opens an eye at the loss of contact and his hips buck gently as his lips rise to an almost sleepy-looking smile.

"Lookin' good, Mellark," I say, giving him one last stroke. He shivers a little before rising to his feet with a grunt.

"God, you're so much sexier than Clove."

"I already gave you the blowjob, you don't have to lie," I tease, pushing his shoulder a little as I stand up beside him.

"Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck," I insist. "You'll do fine."

* * *

I watch Peeta place gentle kisses down the crook of Clove's neck. She croons in pleasure, knotting her hands through his hair and panting deeply as he bites her skin teasingly. She rolls to the side, off of her legs and wraps them around Peeta's waist. He lifts her up onto his lap and immediately she begins to grind down, a pleasurable gasp escaping her lips.

Her head - previously tilted back - snaps up and her once screwed-shut eyes pull open quickly as she looks to Peeta venomously.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Mellark?"

"Cut!" Plutarch calls, running a hand over his face exasperatedly.

"This is ridiculous," she concludes, jumping up from on top of him and pushing herself off of the bed. "Get out of your damn head! Believe me, you're the last person I'd like to be fucking right now too but I'm not _messing up the damn scene over it!" _

"Clove, calm down," Plutarch instructs softly and she turns to him with a clenched jaw before stomping off in the opposite direction, pushing past me with a trailing breeze.

"Peeta... take five."

"Like taking a break is what we need right now," Clove continues to shout out, rattling my nerves and causing my hands to fist in annoyance at her continuous digs toward Peeta.

"Mellark can't even keep it up when a girl is fucking grinding on him, what's he gonna do _taking five?"_

"Katniss?" Plutarch calls and my head snaps up to meet his eyes.

"What?" I snap, my jaw clenched tightly and it takes all my control not to let my face contort with anger.

He motions with his head toward Peeta's dressing room and Peeta who stands near it, looking at me expectantly.

_Oh, right. _

I walk quickly in its direction and am pacing back and forth, tugging at the roots of my hair before Peeta is hardly even inside. I see him shutting the door from the corner of my eye but make no move to face him as I continue to stalk from wall to wall.

"Katniss?"

"Does she really think the commentary is helpful? Because if that's the case, she's fucking denser than I thought. I mean she has _no right_ to say all that... _bull shit_ to yo-" I cut off as I notice Peeta's chuckling smirk and folded arms.

"What?" I snap and he shakes his head, biting the corner of his lip.

"No, no, please continue, I'm enjoying this immensely."

"I just don't get it," I say in disbelief, rolling my eyes. "I mean, you two seemed to have such good chemistry in that one video, I don't understand how someone fakes-"

"-Wait, what video?"

"The cold-" I cut off abruptly, my feet stopping mid-step as I feel the color drain from my face and knots twisting in the pit of my stomach. _Shit. _Desperately, my mind tries to come up with a way to back pedal my statement. "Um... never mind."

"The Cold Storm?" Peeta asks, a mixture of disbelief and amusement clear in his tone. "You've seen The Cold fucking Storm?"

"No!"

"Yes you have!" he accuses, unable to help but burst out into small fits of laughter and I can't even turn to look at him fully without being overcome with the need to turn back away.

"No, Peeta. I didn't... I just... I've _heard-"_

"Uh huh, right, of course," Peeta talks over the top of me with a satisfied smirk and crossed arms. "So how many more have you 'not seen?'"

"None," I sigh, hoping he can't pick up on the obvious lie in my words. "Just the one, damnit."

"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?" he wonders, sitting down in a chair thats off to the side instead of his regular spot on the couch.

"Look, I was curious is all, okay? And it wasn't so weird because we didn't even barely know one another so I don't want you thinking I like leave your house each night and go home getting off to your videos because that's not the case."

"Right, of course," he says, teasing still clear in his tone, so much so that I scoff at him only increasing his smile. "So... did ya like what you saw?"

I roll my eyes, ease setting into my system as I take a daring step forward in his direction. Without giving myself too much time to overthink anything, I bend over, placing each of my hands on both his chair's armrests, leaning forward so our faces are only centimeters apart.

"Am I not sucking your cock on a regular basis now?" I challenge with a raised eyebrow, and suddenly Peeta's confident facade trickles away to a look of lust and need.

"I don't know," he breathes, running a hand over my shoulder. "_Are_ you?"

I note the way his eyes continue to drop down to my collarbone and the front of my shirt where the material is just loose enough to leave little to his imagination with me bent over this way. I stand up fully, redirecting his gaze to my eyes and watch his expression intensify as I pull my shirt up over my head and toss it off into the corner with a shrug.

"You tell me," I breathe, lowering myself back down in between his legs. As my hand trails over his knee cap, I watch as he already begins growing hard, his breathing turning mildly shallow.

As I take him in my hand I watch his own hand struggle against its spot, gripping the armrest. It twitches, like it wants to move but isn't positive if it should and when I glance up at Peeta, his eyes are trained intently on my chest.

My skin feels hot and somewhat tingly under his intense stare and as the warmth continues to spread, I squeeze my thighs together tightly squirming a little in my position. I hold his cock out in the direction of my lips and stick my tongue out to encircle his tip, continuing the action as he grows harder in my hand.

I bring my other hand up to his shaking one and carefully guide it down to my arm, as if to silently tell him it's all right. He takes the hint and drags his fingertips over my skin with feather-like gentleness. Experimentally, he moves his palm inward more to where the swells of my breasts just begin to rise over the top of my bra. Immediately upon contact, my skin breaks out into goosebumps and he sighs deeply.

"Fuck me," Peeta whispers as I take him as far as I can into my mouth. He places a palm fully over me, teasing the nipple through the thin material. "Do you _want_ me to come again?"

"Uh huh," I moan over his skin, letting my teeth scrape against him just slightly. He grunts in surprise, his head tilting back into the chair as he grips it and me tightly at the same time.

"Don't tease me," he whispers breathlessly and I pull up from on him then, giving the tip one last kiss.

"I'm not," I promise, writhing a little from his touch. "I do want you to come."

His eyes roll slightly to the back of his head.

"Just _out there."_

I stand up without another word, retrieving my shirt from the corner of the room and pulling it back over my body quickly. Peeta's eyes are still trained on mine when I look back, and his dick gives a slight twitch that causes the warmness in my stomach to increase.

He averts his eyes quickly, pulling his robe up over his body before standing fully, heading in the direction of the door. I watch the back of his figure as he curls a hand over the doorknob. He pauses for a long moment before turning slowly back in my direction, shifting on his feet hesitantly and wearing a mask of seriousness.

"Uhh... thank you, Katniss."

"Sure," I reply awkwardly with a shrug.

He gives me a small smile which I return immediately, before adding jokingly: "Hopefully we won't need to rendezvous anymore today."

I wince as I say it, unable to believe the words have come from my mouth but Peeta only chuckles, shaking his head before sighing deeply.

"Yeah, hopefully."

His hand is still twisted on the doorknob but he makes no move to open it, staring down at it almost defeatedly.

"Hey," I say, taking a step forward. "Don't overthink it."

"Yeah," he replies.

"And ya know if you start to feel turned off... just... think of me," it's supposed to be a joke, but the way my voice grows small at the end hints at realness and I blush deeply under his gaze.

He only laughs though, pulling the door open more fully, reaching out to touch my arm one more time before walking back toward the set wordlessly.

"Jesus Mellark, I didn't think you'd _ever_ come out," Clove's voice immediately rings out, causing my muscles to tense and my nerves to prickle. I stand off to the side with folded arms, watching Clove intently as she strips down from her robe and joins Peeta on set, mumbling incoherently to him.

We lock eyes once more as they find their positions and I cast him a quick wink as if to be reassuring.

_Not that he needs it from me, _I chastise myself. _Peeta's a big boy and has done plenty of movies with _Clove. _He knows how to handle it._

I sigh, leaning back into the wall as Plutarch jumps up to give them directions and cues and pick idly at my fingernails.

"Peppermint stick?"

I jump in surprise at Finnick's voice, turning sharply in his direction with a frown. His eyebrows lift as he holds it out to me more firmly and I take it quickly, pressing it between my lips and sucking on the edge.

"Where were you earlier?"

"Yeah, see I try to _not_ be around when she is," Finnick says, nodding in the direction of Clove.

"So you just leave Peeta then?"

"Whoa, easy there," Finnick says, wide-eyed. "Don't get defensive-"

"I'm not defensive! I just think... I don't know, you guys are good friends, right?"

"Sure, but friendship only goes so far," Finnick snickers. "It's not like that son of a bitch would stick around if it were me in his position."

I roll my eyes at the same time that Plutarch calls for quiet around the set and the scene begins picks up where it left off earlier.

"Did you hear the news about Plutarch?" Finnick whispers, "And how he wants to make you Peeta's fluffer full-time?"

"Yeah, Annie told me," I say, trying to remain as neutral as possible.

"Yeah, I'm not surprised," Finnick nods, biting off a large chunk of his peppermint stick. "You two have loads more chemistry than him and Glimmer ever did."

His words purr against my skin as my eyes train themselves intently on Peeta as he slithers his way down Clove's body, trailing kisses over his stomach and finally between her legs.

"I can't remember the last time they hung out or engaged in conversation willingly."

Clove moans as Peeta's tongue begins flicking at her clit and the noise sounds so realistic it's hard to believe she's _not_ enjoying it. His eyes lift up to look at her face and he navigates a hand upward to wrap around her breast, squeezing and palming it similar to the way he had mine earlier.

And I wonder if he's taken my advice and in his mind it's _me_ laying beneath him and not her.

* * *

I'm not surprised that by the time we finish up filming for the day, the sky is a royal shade of blue - almost completely black - at street lamps light up the pavement around the parking lot.

The air has grown chilly with the sun down and as I walk out to my car, I pull the edges of my jacket up closer to my face.

Clove left a few hours ago, after her and Peeta's scenes were completely finished up for the day. Immediately after her departure, set seemed to be almost a different place. Slowly, people fell back into their normal routines and the easiness I felt before returned.

The stress Peeta and I had both felt by her presence faded with the day too. My twisted and coiled stomach slowly began to subside and the embarrassment and hatred that boiled in Peeta's eyes were forgotten as Finnick distracted him with jokes and stories.

Afterward, when Finnick was needed on set, Peeta fled to his dressing room, changing into something more comfortable before inviting me in so that we didn't have to just "stand around."

We ended up playing a couple of games and talking quite a bit, the entire mess of this morning forgotten about.

But it's still left me pretty drained.

"Katniss!"

I know it's Peeta without looking, but I turn to face him anyway and he jogs forward with one hand up in a waving position.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"Hey, um... are you leaving?" he asks awkwardly, running a hand over the back of his neck and averting his eyes around the parking lot.

"Yeah, I thought I'd head out," I answer, my voice trailing off lamely toward the end. My "big plans" for the evening centered around going home, making some popcorn and possibly catching some TV movie before passing out for the night. The possibility of sleep has been the only thing getting me through this day.

But, that was before Peeta chased me out to my car.

"Just because?" he asks, leaning against the hood of my car more casually and shrugging his shoulders a little in question.

"Why? You have a better offer?" I challenge, unsure if I'm proud of myself for pushing the issue or annoyed.

"Maybe," he says, laughing a little at my accusation. "Some people are going out for drinks tonight-"

I wrinkle my nose before he can finish, but he holds a hand up in protest.

"But, it's been a long day so I was thinking of "heading out" myself."

I cross my arms, waiting for him to continue but he only looks to me expectantly. I raise an eyebrow back at him, urging him to keep going and then he clears his throat.

"You wanna come over for a little bit?"

* * *

As it turns out, I can never stay for "a little bit" at Peeta's house.

The first thought of home doesn't even begin to strike me until after two in the morning.

And _well_ after more than a few drinks.

"Oh no," I say, disappointment clear in my tone as I gulp the last of my beer. It stings going down and leaves a funny aftertaste in my mouth that makes me sort of giggle. "I need to go home."

"Now? You can't go home like that," Peeta counters, nodding his bottle in my direction. "Look at you, you're a mess."

"Rude! Am not," I scowl, but even with a clouded brain, I know the slurring in my tone is not a natural one. "So what am I going to do? Sl-sleep outside like a _dog?"_

"No," Peeta snickers, a little too long, before patting the cushion underneath him. "On the couch."

I frown, sourly.

"Or my bed," he adds with a casual shrug.

I'm silent for a second and Peeta arches an eyebrow, taking another swig of his drink.

"Ohh... I get it now," I say, wagging a finger in his direction.

"Get what?"

"You think you're so sneaky. Mr. Pornstar can get whatever it is he wants," I accuse. "This was all part of your plan, wasn't it?"

"What plan?" Peeta snickers, his eyes widening as I start to crawl closer to him, the leather squeaking under my knees. His body stiffens as I approach, but he holds an arm out as if to welcome me in. I fall down onto his lap, taking the outstretched arm which leans against the back of the couch and wrapping it around my stomach, my other hand encircling his neck. When I look up to meet his eyes, he's smiling lazily down at me.

"To get me into your bed," I tell him, running my hand through the bottom of his curls. "Do you think I'm easy or something?"

"You're the one watching 'One Cold Night,'" he snickers, "Was it an off-assumption to make?"

"That's low," I mutter, my breath hitching as his face draws closer to my own.

"I don't think you're easy," he whispers, running his palm over my cheek to keep me from moving. "But I do think you're smart. You caught onto my plan entirely too quick..."

"Fuckin' jerk," I barely breathe before his lips are on mine and it seems weird to think that we've done so much, been so intimate together and yet this is our very first kiss. His lips are heated against mine and I can smell the alcohol on his breath, but it only seems to drive me deeper, make my hands curl tighter around him to ensure not breaking our lips.

I groan a little when his tongue probes my mouth for entrance, slithering inside and feeling its way around. He runs the tip of it over my rooftop before tracing my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and biting down on it gently with his teeth.

The hand that's not wrapped tightly around my back reaches forward and trails itself up and down my stomach, his fingertips just barely touching the underwire of my bra before they move back down.

I push him back so that his head tilts along the back of the couch and break our kiss to trail kisses down his jawline and to the sensitive skin around his ear.

"Ugh, Katniss," he whimpers, rocking my hips over his straining erection rhythmically. "That feels... so nice."

I smile a little as I nip at his skin and marvel at how he shivers in delight.

"Do you want to...? Let's go upstairs," he manages to spit out, stilling our hips and helping to push me off the top of him.

"Kay," I say, rising to my feet and following closely behind him as he guides me down the hallway leading to a short staircase of three steps.

He jogs up the steps, turning to look back at me with eager eyes before placing a hand on my lower back and leading me forward to the door I assume opens to his bedroom.

The upstairs is pretty bare compared to his downstairs living space. Besides the one door off to the side that leads into the bathroom, it's completely bare. But, I sort of like the way it's not overly cluttered and the carpeting feels nice between my toes.

"It's not much," he says, as if to warn me, flipping on a switch. And he's right, it isn't, but it's not like I'm one to judge... I don't even technically _have_ a room in my small apartment. The walls are free from any form of decor and besides the large mattress which sits off to the corner, the room is nearly empty.

He has a nightstand perched beside his bed which holds an array of different objects ranging from an alarm clock to an empty glass he hasn't brought downstairs yet and a remote control - though I don't know what for, there's no TV or radio that I see.

"Who cares?" I finally say, flipping the switch back off and it takes only a minute for my eyes to readjust and find Peeta staring back at me in the darkness. "Not like I'll be memorizing it."

"Not if I have it my way," he breathes and I don't know if it's my own cloudy brain that causes me to be confused by his words, or if I would be still even without the alcohol.

"I've been thinking about this for so long," he admits, sounding dazed. I feel a hand snake across my lower back, and he pulls me into him tighter until my hands land on his chest and our fronts are flush against one another's.

My breath hitches as his hand dips down slowly to cup itself over my butt. I can feel his heart beating rapidly inside his chest as I run my hands up and down it, pushing my hips against his more forcibly.

"And then today?" he mumbles into my hair, kissing the edge of my forehead and then my eyebrow. "With your shirt and... your _mouth?_ It'd be impossible to get you off my mind now."

"Always you, you, you," I say, catching him into a kiss as he teases his lips along the edge of mine. "But what about me?"

He's silent, breathing hard against my skin and I inhale deeply at his scent. My hands run up and down his chest, stopping at the belt buckle which I undo easily, pulling it free from his jean loops. He glances down, our foreheads connected before I spot his eyes on mine.

"You're sort of selfish, Peeta," I whisper with an arched eyebrow, shaking my head in mock-disappointment.

He jerks his head away and gasps a little, his hands clutching harder onto me.

"Me? Selfish? Never."

"I don't know," I say, popping the button to his jeans open and yanking on the zipper. I push them down over his hips and find his bulge almost immediately. He grunts a little at the contact, bucking his hips into my own as I stroke him over the material of his boxer briefs. "Seem a little selfish to me."

"Well, I certainty... wouldn't want to - _shit - _give you the wrong impression... of me," he pants, moving one of his hands off of me and down in-between us to help guide mine on him. "What can I do... to change your mind?"

I give him a hard squeeze, stilling my movements but keeping my hand over him in an almost cradling position. I move in closer, until my lips are nearly on his and smirk gently in the dark.

"I kind of feel like you owe me."

He groans a little before nodding his head in agreement.

"How would you like to be repaid?" he whispers wickedly against my earlobe and I groan a little, my knees growing weak with his hot breath on mine.

"Surprise me."

Peeta wastes no time, pulling me back toward his bed and throwing me down onto the mattress carelessly. He lands on top of me, raking his hands down my stomach slowly, as if to memorize every movement. His fingertips tickle the bare flesh below my belly button as he tests curling them around the edge of my shirt. Slowly, he lifts it up toward my chest, his eyes searching mine for permission. I stare back at him with intense eyes, as if to tell him if he stopped right now I would definitely combust.

I help lift the thing up over my head and toss it to the unused side of the bed as Peeta palms over my bra eagerly. His mouth comes to kiss along my sternum, peppering me with kisses that trail down to the valley in-between my breasts where he licks and laps at the skin greedily.

"Ugh," I groan in a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. "Just... take it off."

Peeta chuckles against my skin, giving my nipple a hard tweak through the fabric before snaking his hands behind my arched back and undoing the bra painfully slow. As the last hook unclasps, I yank the thing away from my body, tossing it in the same general direction as my shirt.

"God," Peeta murmurs causing me to squirm as he circles my hard nipple with his forefinger. "You are magnificent."

"Everything you hoped and dreamed for?" I tease, gasping a little as he bends down suddenly to take my right one into his mouth. He bites down gently, smirking up at me as my hips instinctively buck before moaning around my skin.

"Mmm. Better."

"Continue, then," I urge, my fingers locking through his thick hair, urging him back to his ministrations. He leans up to plant a chaste kiss over my heart before his busy fingers trail down to unbutton and lower the zipper on my jeans.

He sticks a hand down inside of them, palming me over the thin material of my underwear.

"Fuck, you're already so wet," he grumbles, an acute shiver running up his body. I lift my hips, urging him to pull my pants - and anything else he might want - down. He takes the hint, hooking his fingers through the thin straps of my panties and pulls them both down until they're past my feet in a heap.

Peeta's eyes widen at the sight of my lower form and his bottom lip glistens with saliva as it hangs open unintentionally. I clear my throat, causing his head to snap up to face mine. He smiles, swallowing thickly before his fingers twitch in their place, running through the thin hairs that coat my skin before delving deeper into my slick folds.

"Peeta," I moan, my voice hitching as he curls a finger over my clit. It swipes past it, back and forth and both our panting breaths fill the air. "That feels so good."

"You're so warm," Peeta croons, his one hand still fondling my breast, the other exploring lower before he pushes two fingers inside of me slowly, pumping in and out rhythmically.

He adjusts his body position so that it rests further from my face and closer to my hips and as he kisses the skin directly above my hip bone, my stomach coils in the most pleasurable way and my lower half bucks and squirms uncontrollably.

"I want to taste you," Peeta murmurs against my skin, trailing his tongue along it daringly.

"Then _do it," _I urge, hardly able to catch my breath.

His lips widen into a smile before he travels down lower, sticking his head between my thighs and chancing a swift lick across my skin. His fingers continue to pump in and out of me, their pace picking up to one that has me moaning consistently as the tip of his tongue swipes over my clit just right.

"Oh! Yes, Peeta, _yes." _

His free hand works itself under my butt, squeezing it as he drives me closer to the edge. He takes my swollen nub in-between his teeth, barely scraping the hood causing my vision to grow spotty as my hands instinctively flew back to his head to steady him _right there._

He moans against me, moving quicker and longer with his movements and I grip his head so hard I'm not sure how I don't pull hair out from his scalp.

"Peeta! Fuck! I- uhhhh," I slur incoherently as my body rocks through waves of ecstasy. He steadies my hips, keeping a consistent pace until the tremors steady and my shallow breaths turn back to normal.

He removes his fingers, sitting up more fully before inserting them into his mouth and licking up the extra juices. He moans a little as he tastes, his eyes drooping slightly as he smiles down at me with a loopy smile.

"You taste incredible."

"You don't need to compliment me," I scoff, closing my legs self consciously before peaking a glance down at his swollen erection which causes his boxers to fit tighter against his skin. I loop a finger through the waistband, pulling it down a little before he catches on and helps release it the rest of the way.

It springs up immediately, smacking against his skin and as he works on freeing his legs from his underwear, I begin to pump him casually.

"That's not what I'm here for."

"Then what are you here for?" Peeta asks, slightly dazed and I give him a rough tug before climbing up onto his lap.

"For you to fuck me."

"Shiiiit," he groans, his hands coming to rest on my hips as I grind myself against him. Our skin on skin feels incredible and although the aftershocks of my last orgasm leave my clit overly-sensitive, when it brushes against the tip of his cock I have to grip his shoulders for support.

"Condom?" I slur, still coherent enough to know better than to make a mistake.

"No thanks," Peeta replies, smirking as I slap him jokingly. He quickly adds: "Top drawer."

"I see you keep them easily accessible," I say, climbing off him just long enough to grab the box which is right where he promises it to be.

"Yeah well, some sexy woman started hanging around my place a lot, so I figured I'd better be prepared... just in case."

"A true gentleman," I smirk, rolling my eyes as I hold the condom out to him in-between my two fingers.

"Definitely," he agrees with a grunt, opening the package and sliding it over himself with ease.

I fall down beside him, running my hand across his twitching stomach muscles before he pulls himself over the top of me with a primal growl. He reaches between our bodies to part my legs enough for his to fit in-between and then grabs ahold of his dick, guiding it past my entrance.

As the tip passes through, I hear Peeta let out a heavy groan and his arms come up to rest near each of my shoulders as he uses his hips to push himself in the rest of the way. As he slowly starts to fill me, my arms fling around his middle, holding onto him tightly as my head tilts back with pleasure.

"Oh god," Peeta whimpers, craning his neck to bend down and kiss me. "You're so tight. Oh _shit_ Katniss, yes."

"Peeta," I whisper, digging my nails into him harder. "Faster."

It's been _so long. _So long since it's been anything other than my hand and computer screen.

As Peeta's thrusts become more consistent and he picks up a quicker tempo, I become convinced that Clove's moans on set and in those videos were definitely _not_ faked.

_Shut the fuck up! _my mind screams at me. _Why the hell are you thinking about _her_ with _him _right now?_

"You feel so good," Peeta breathes against my ear, snaking a hand back down to rub and tease my clit. With his words and actions, I'm propelled back into reality and my hips buck up to meet his own furiously.

I feel myself clench around him as I draw closer to the edge, and my legs wrap around his middle, making it impossible for him to pull out very far.

His mouth dangles open widely, quiet gasps and groans escaping him as his eyes bore into my own furiously. Through my peripheral vision, I can see his arms shaking madly, barely able to support his weight the longer we continue.

"Peeta, Peeta, _Peeta_," it's a never ending chant and my head thrashes from side to side as my one arm slams down onto the mattress, balling the material of the sheet underneath us up in my palm.

"I'm so close."

"Me too," he warns, working his fingers against me harder. "Come for me, Katniss."

"Ugh!"

"Come now," he says through gritted teeth and with one last buck of my hips and a gasp of pleasure, I come undone before him, my eyes twisting shut and arm pulling him closer to me.

"Yesss," I hear Peeta whisper, followed by a long string of profanities as he pulses and twitches uncontrollably inside of me.

We lay entwined together until our breathing slows to a normal pace and Peeta rolls from on top of me, sitting up with his back turned to me and legs dangling off the bed as he cleans himself up.

I sit up too and Peeta peeks over his shoulder at me, smiling a little before pushing me back down with him, his arm sprawled across my belly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

My eyes shut on their own accord and I yawn tiredly, twisting to my side and scooting in closer to his embrace.

"Nowhere."

"Right answer."

* * *

I wake up with a mixture of confusion and annoyance when I turn over in bed and the open window causes the sun to blare directly into my face. I turn into the pillow, moaning deeply as my head throbs incessantly.

It smells like Peeta and I inhale deeper, pushing my hands underneath it and burying myself closer into the bedding before realization hits me.

_Shit._

I pop up into a sitting position too fast, causing my head to spin wildly for about thirty seconds, and then I look around. Peeta isn't _anywhere. _The house is quiet around me and I lean over the bed as far as possible to look down the unlit hallway, but it too is abandoned.

I'd drunk enough last night to loosen my inhibitions (...to put it mildly) but definitely not enough to have forgotten what happened and as I sit here - naked - and replay all the events of last night through my mind, a familiar tingly feeling creeps up in the pit of my stomach.

A sharp shiver runs through me and instinctively I pull the sheet up higher toward my neck as I scan the floors for any of my discarded clothing.

In the daylight, it's easier to see just how well maintained Peeta's room is. His closet door is open and inside all of his clothes hang neatly, along with his shoes which are placed on the floor in piles.

My clothes are nowhere.

I sigh deeply, running a hand through my trashed braid.

Having never done the... "one night stand" thing before, I'm a little lost at what the official protocol on the whole thing is.

But... _is_ this a one night stand? I mean, the entire situation is a little different. Peeta and I are (were? I don't know after last night _what_ we are anymore...) good friends. Sure, we never had _sex_ before last night, but it's not like this is the first time I've spent the night here...

_First time in this bed._

_First time naked._

"Shit."

"Oh, you're awake!"

My head snaps in the direction of the door as my entire form jumps at the sound of his voice. He's completely dressed - down to his double-knotted shoes - and rubs a towel over his damp hair before discarding it into an empty hamper.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I accuse but he only laughs, leaning up against the door frame. He casts me a casual smirk, _almost_ like he wants to talk about everything, but never quite initiating it.

I don't either.

But I do feel extremely uncomfortable as his eyes look over my naked body, hidden only by a comforter. In the darkness, with a few drinks, it's different. But now in the daylight, with all my flaws hanging out in the open, I find myself squirming on top of his mattress, pulling the covers closer to me.

"You brought clothes into the shower?" I snap into the tense air. "How weird are you."

"Hey, looks are deceiving," he jokes back, shaking a finger at me. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't enjoy running around nude twenty-four seven."

"What a coincidence, neither do I."

"Then cover up, Everdeen," he scoffs.

"Um, I would... if someone hadn't moved my clothes."

"They're _dirty," _he says, dismissively. "I put them in the wash this morning."

"Well, aren't you Mr. Productivity."

"I wasn't as drunk as you were."

"Not drunk, buzzed," I correct. "I remember everything I did last night, thank you very much."

My cheeks flush before I have time to finish my sentence and the last couple of words trail off almost inaudibly.

I hear Peeta snicker from the other side of the room.

"Couldn't wait to bring it up, could ya?"

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"But you said it," he accuses. "So let me just say, I remember everything too."

I'm quiet for a minute, twisting the comforter around with my finger before shrugging my shoulders and asking: "..._And?"_

"And that was definitely in my top ten of all-time favorite sexes-"

"-ugh!" I scowl, throwing a pillow in his direction, which only causes him to laugh harder.

"Okay, okay, top five!"

"Stop!"

"I'm going to go make some blueberry pancakes," Peeta says, bending down to pick up the pillow that sits at his feet. "Feel free to use the bathroom to freshen up if you want... and um, you can just... borrow something comfortable until your clothes are washed. Uh... top drawer."

I blink a couple of times in his direction, but he only gives me a goofy grin, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

"Okay, well I'll meet you downstairs?"

"Okay," I say, slowly. "...Thanks."

* * *

When I pull into the parking lot for work, Annie, Finnick, Jo and a couple others are all huddled around outside by the entrance. Their collection of stares train on me, then trail back to Peeta as he turns in after me only a couple seconds later.

Peeta and I hadn't really talked about what we might say... or if we would even say _anything_ about what happened last night, which leads me to the conclusion that he doesn't want anyone else knowing. Which is by fine by me, because I'm not entirely sure I want anyone else knowing either.

Peeta takes the spot next to mine and glances at me through the closed window of his car. I smile a little and he winks, opening the door and climbing out quickly. I follow his lead, turning mine off before jumping out of it and shutting the door tightly behind me.

"Hey," he says casually, stuffing his keys into his pockets.

"Hi," I mumble back, pushing a loose hair behind my ear and crossing the parking lot toward the door.

By the time we get inside, the crowd which lingered earlier has dispersed and everyone appears to be going about their normal daily responsibilities.

"I'm going to go change," Peeta mumbles off to the side of me, touching my arm just slightly. "I'll see you in a few?"

"Kay."

He smiles a little, his eyes lingering on mine a second longer than usual before he turns toward his dressing room. I smile too, biting my lip to keep it from spreading into a stupid full-blown grin. I turn on my heels toward the table packed with goodies and pluck a styrofoam cup up into my palm, filling it halfway with coffee.

"Where were you last night?"

I turn around quickly, swallowing my first gulp too fast to meet Annie and Johanna's curious eyes. Their eyebrows raise suggestively and both their lips are pressed into hard set lines.

"Um..."

"We thought you were going to come out for drinks with us."

"Sorry," I say lamely. "I was really tired. You know, dealing with Clove all day... speaking of which, is she back?"

"She'll be here all week," Johanna speaks dismissively, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Don't change the subject."

"...What's the subject?" I ask, feigning innocence as a sweat begins to work itself up my neck.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you make a left-hand turn into the parking lot before," Annie says with pursed lips. "Our apartment building is actually the opposite direction."

"Went a different way today."

"We know you fucked Peeta last night, be a woman and admit it," Johanna deadpans, crossing her arms triumphantly.

My mouth falls open largely and I stare back at them with a mix of horror and confusion. _Think, Katniss! Think._

But, nothing comes out but an incoherent string of mumbles and stuttering "uhhs" before I sigh deeply and run a hand over my tired face.

"It's not like what you're thinking..."

"Katniss, just stop. I know," Johanna continues. "I can tell."

"Yeah, you both had that _glow_ going on this morning. And don't think I didn't see you guys exchanging smiles."

I huff in protest.

"It was only a matter of time honestly. I mean, he's an attractive guy, you're an attractive girl... you're touching his junk daily-"

"-Okay, I really don't want to talk about this," I say, holding my hands up to stop them.

"Katniss?"

All three of our heads turn in the direction of Peeta's dressing room, where his head pokes out, his eyes staring directly at me.

"You coming?"

"Have fuuuun," Annie sings, leaning in closer to me as I walk by.

"But not too much fun!" Johanna calls out and when I turn back to glare at her the two of them burst into girlish giggles.

And I would have pegged them as being the more conniving snickering type.

* * *

"_Peeta, faster!"_

Images of last night swirl through my brain in a haze. I feel the soft material of his sheets underneath me, his hard cock driving in and out of me, the sweat that traced his upper lip and forehead...

"Oh shit! Shit. Shit. Yes. Shit. Shit. Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck!"_

I groan, massaging my throbbing head which only pulses with every noise that falls from Clove's lips. She lays sprawled out on top of a kitchen table, her legs dangling off the edge limply as Peeta drills into her over and over again.

He seems completely different from yesterday, when he could barely make it five minutes through the scene without growing un-aroused. Today, it barely took any "prep" at all to get him ready and although Clove made her typical comments its as if they were in one ear and out the other, because Peeta has only needed one break the entire scene.

He groans deep and masculine and his eyes screw shut tightly as his hands grip the table for support. Her hands cling to his body, pulling him closer to her as she tilts her head, her back arching up into the air.

A strange mix of jealousy and arousal wash over my body as I continue to watch the scene, and the intermixed feelings confuse me. Because I watched Peeta perform with Clove just yesterday, and with other girls different days... but I've never felt this angry about it. Like, I want to rip her away from his body angry.

I've always been well aware that it's just a scene. _It's just acting, Katniss! He's acting._

But did he have to act so damn good?

And if he _is_ acting... if this is all just for the paycheck... how can I tell the difference between his "acting" here and his "acting" with me?

"Peppermint stick?"

I take the candy from Finnick's hand without turning to look at him and fist it tightly in my palm, my eyes transfixed on the scene before me.

I replace her sprawled out body on the table with mine in my mind and I imagine Peeta gripping my legs, opening them wider, grinding his teeth so hard that his jawbone sticks out noticeably...

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't waste it now," Finnick protests and it's only then that I notice the peppermint dust clinging stickly to my hands. Part of the stick lays smashed on the floor where my hand has obviously snapped it.

"Sorry," I grumble, bending over to pick up the bits and tossing them in the trash.

"Last time I offer you anything..."

"I said sorry."

An arm snakes around my own and I turn quickly in protest, thinking that it's Finnick, but when I see Annie smirking in my direction I ease up a little.

"So what exactly happened last night?" Annie asks lowly, so that nobody else can hear. "Peeta mentioned he wasn't coming out because he was tired and wanted to crash... didn't realize that meant with _you."_

I swallow heavily as she continues on, asking if we planned it.

"No, no not really. I was just over there and one thing left to another..."

"Was it your first time over?"

"No," I answer quickly, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"Not like that... we just... we hang out sometimes. I mean, we're friends, that's what friends do, right?"

"Sure," she agrees. "But they don't fuck afterwards."

I sigh deeply, leaning against the concrete wall more fully.

"Katniss look, I'm just going to be straight with you because I like you, okay?"

I turn my head in her direction, listening.

"Just... be careful. I know that look in your eyes and it's no good."

"What look?" I snort, and when she doesn't answer I turn to look at her skeptically. "What?"

"You like him," she claims, smiling sympathetically as I feel my cheeks heating unbearably. "And that's pretty dangerous... given the profession."

* * *

Three weeks have passed since I last spent the night at Peeta's and Annie's conversation with me the following morning, but her words still ring throughout my brain.

_It's dangerous._

And at first I argued with myself that it was just a job. These women meant nothing to him. _He chose me. _He was assigned to them.

But... the more time I allowed to pass, the stronger my resentment began to grow for Peeta and the trail of women that followed him on and off the set. It was never ending... but I couldn't tell if it was just in my mind or if I had simply not noticed it before now.

Because it hadn't exactly mattered before.

_It doesn't matter now, _I remind myself harshly. _You're not "together" you're not a "couple." What that was, was two people having some fun and that's all. No commitment._

No commitment at all. And it's almost like that same dark and looming cloud from before, after the first time I "fluffed" Peeta - has returned over our relationship again... because no matter how hard we try to act like everything is fine and normal we can both sense the thickness in the air and the awkward pauses in between our words.

Peeta invited me over a couple of nights ago, claiming it'd been awhile since we'd played _Left 4 Dead 2,_ but I passed. I could see the look of hurt in his eyes and the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but in the end he only shrugged his shoulders, muttering something about it having been a long day and how I should probably get some rest.

"Yeah," I agreed shortly and thought about adding on the fact that I was positive there were one hundred other girls he could invite over to "hang out."

He smiled lopsidedly after another pause settled between us and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yup. I'll see you."

"Katniss, wait..." he called suddenly, once I'd turned in the direction of my car. I stopped walking but refused to turn around to face him, afraid he might be able to pick up the color in my cheeks in the fading sky.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine," I answer, wincing at the sarcasm that leaks through my tone.

"Not exactly convincing," he half-chuckles before clearing his throat. "I mean... is everything okay with... us?"

I glance over my shoulder at his defeated posture and sigh deeply before turning around completely.

"Yeah. Why? You feel like it's not?"

"No, no... I just... we haven't really talked about _everything _and I didn't know if -"

"-What about it?" I snap, causing his eyes to widen.

"Nothing," he speaks a moment later, solemnly.

A pang of guilt washed over me as he adverted his eyes and I chance a step forward, tucking my braid off to the side of one of my shoulders. He noticed me in front of him and lifted his head in question before I fell into his arms. His body stiffened as I wrapped my arms around his middle but slowly he returned the hug, resting his head on top of mine.

"I just don't want to lose you, is all," Peeta breathed into my hair and instinctively I held him impossibly closer.

"You won't," I promised.

... But three weeks later, we've barely spoken five sentences to one another.

"I know what you need," Annie mumbles into my ear, placing a hand on either of my shoulders before shaking them. "A drink!"

She jerks me in the direction of the bartender, pointing a finger above my head to gain his attention.

"No, I don't."

"Don't be such a downer," she scoffs, grabbing the glasses from the bar top (this one has to be _at least_ her third...). "We're doing a toast!"

"To another successful run," Johanna says, clearing her throat and holding her glass up in triumph.

"And to many more to come," Annie chimes, adding her glass into the mixture. They look to me expectantly, grinning as I raise my own glass into the pile before chugging theirs down in one gulp. I take a small sip at mine, wincing at it's sourness before putting it back on the bar top and leaning into it.

Johanna and Annie's words get lost in the loud music and I find myself searching the busy bar, my eyes scanning the place for-

_No one. I'm with my friends. I'm looking for no one._

But still, I continue to catch myself scanning.

"Are you still looking for Peeta?"

"What, still?" I snap defensively. "What looking? I'm not looking. I'm just... enjoying our surroundings."

To celebrate the last day of filming, almost everyone from work showed up at The Hob for drinks and dancing. Although I didn't _ask_ if he was coming, I sort of just assumed Peeta would show up, given his position within 'The District.'

But I haven't seen him since early this afternoon, which makes me equal parts relieved and irrationally upset, because typically when he doesn't come out, he asks me to come over. So... who is he with tonight that he _couldn't?_

_It. Doesn't. Matter._

_I know, I know... _I argue internally, rolling my eyes. _So why does it feel like it does?_

"Ugh, lying is ugly," Johanna says, wrinkling her nose. "Mellark isn't here yet but-"

I see her lips moving, but anything that comes after the word 'yet' is lost to me because it seems to be the only word my brain can wrap itself around. My face flushes as I debate whether or not Johanna may have picked up on my small hope from any external expressions or signs. If she does, she continues to talk through her suspicious before turning back to the bar for another drink. She casts me a look over her shoulder and I nod in agreement with whatever I miss, which seems to please her.

"Oh for the love of all that is holy, please tell me you didn't get her drunk."

"Speak of the devil," Johanna mumbles, pushing her glass to her lips quickly.

I glance off to the right to see Peeta standing there almost sheepishly, his hands in his pockets and his lips twisted up into an unreadable smile.

"Because believe me," he continues, taking a step forward. "She is _wild."_

My ears tingle at the hidden meaning to his words.

"I'm not drunk," I reply easily. "This is my first drink."

"Something you'd known if you had _been here," _Annie sings, poking his chest squarely.

"Come on, I have appearances to keep," Peeta chuckles. "A star needs to arrive fashionably late."

"Whatever!" Johanna scoffs, and the three of them laugh easily before diving deep into conversation. They ask how he feels now that filming is done, if he's signed onto any new projects within 'The District,' how many re-shoots he thinks they'll be...

I end up sucking down the second half of my drink in less than a minute just to keep myself busy. When I've stared at the empty glass long enough and turn toward the bar to ask for another, I notice Peeta's eyes watching me intently as Annie continues on. When his gaze catches mine, his smile increases a little and he winks before turning back to Annie.

Of course she notices. A very knowing look crosses her face as she cranes her head back to catch a quick glance, biting her lip with glee.

"Jo, help me find Finnick, would you? He promised me a dance."

Johanna agrees readily, pulling Annie's hand toward the opposite side of the bar. I look down at my new drink, studying it and swirling it around in the glass as I notice Peeta taking a step toward me from the corner of my eye.

His arm comes to rest down by mine and he continues to clear his throat until I look up at him.

"Surprised to see you here," he admits, turning toward the tender and ordering a beer - always in the bottle, never a glass.

"Why?" I shrug. "Just as much my wrap-up party as it is yours."

"Didn't mean it like that," he sort of chuckles. "I just know it's not really your scene."

"You said it wasn't yours either."

"It's not," he snorts. "More like a commitment. I mean, I blow these guys off on a weekly basis. I couldn't very well ignore them this time."

I shrug.

"Plus," he says, elbowing me in the side. "It's your very first wrap-up celebration."

"Hoorah!" I say, raising an arm into the air sarcastically. It gets a laugh out of Peeta, which makes me feel better than it should.

"Hey, you made it through your first porn movie," he says. "So many try and few succeed in. Proud of you, kid."

"Thanks, _buddy," _I say, punching his arm with a tight smile.

His own smile melts a little as his eyes glance down at my fist and he leans an elbow against the bar top, leaning his head against his open palm with a curious expression.

"What?" I ask, feeling squirmy under his gaze.

"Nothing," he says. "Just trying to figure out if you're all right or not."

"I'm fine," I promise.

"Because, we could get out of here if you..." he trails off as he notices my expression and his cheeks brighten. "No, no, no I didn't mean it like that. All I meant was we could go-"

"I get it," I say, holding a hand up to stop him as I try to ignore the pain that tightens in my chest. "You don't need to explain."

Peeta frowns and inhales sharply before releasing it with a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"What is wrong with us?" he asks, the smile already melting. "We are like the worst party-people ever."

"Pretty odd for a porn star and his _fluffer," _I add, cracking a smile.

Peeta laughs again, running a hand through his hair as we fall back into what is becoming a typical silence.

I _hate_ it.

It's like we're two completely different people now. Peeta was one of my closest friends. We never used to run out of things to talk about and our infrequent pauses were never this _deadly_ in the past...

I just don't get it. And I _know_ it's mostly my fault for letting Annie's words get into my head and psyching myself out all these weeks over girls who aren't important and things that shouldn't matter (but they do, and if not now then later).

I just want things to go back to normal and I _don't know how _to fix it.

Peeta takes another long swig of his drink while I tap my fingers against the table. I keep waiting for him to make up some excuse to leave, but it never comes.

About two and a half minutes pass before I think of something to say and turn up to Peeta with an inhalation just as he looks down to me, as though he were about to say something. We both laugh awkwardly a little before he points to me.

"Go ahead."

"Nah," I say, brushing it off with a flick of my hand. "It wasn't important at all, really. What were you saying?"

"Actually, I was going to ask you if you'd like to dance?"

I blink rapidly, looking him over as he raises an eyebrow in question.

Accepting a dance... that's something old Katniss would've done, right? It's not weird or awkward...

"Sure," I say, jumping up from where I'd perched myself on the barstool. Peeta blinks, looking to me with excitement like he hadn't expected the answer to be 'yes' and then takes my outstretched hand willingly.

He guides me toward the busy dance floor, pulling me in closer to the middle before stopping, turning to face me completely. The music is blaring and the bass is so high I can feel it thumping through the soles of my shoes.

I turn to the people surrounding me self-consciously, watching the way their hips swayed to the music passionately. I shifted on my feet from left to right, letting my arms dangle loosely at my sides before Peeta takes them in his.

"We suck."

"What?" he asks, his face scrunching up as he strains to hear me. I chuckle as he leans in closer.

"We SUCK!"

"Hey! Speak for yourself!" Peeta claims, his mouth widening with my words playfully. "I'm a good dancer."

"I don't know," I challenge loudly into his ear. "You're doing a pretty good white-man's shuffle right now."

"I think my dance partner is the one throwing me off," he says. "You need to relax."

"I am relaxed!"

He rolls his eyes, letting go of one of my hands to snake it behind my back. I try looking over my shoulder but he suddenly jerks me in closer to him, causing me to lose my balance and my hand to land on his chest for support.

I look up and he winks down at me again, holding his palm at the small of my back.

"We need to get closer," he breathes, moving my hips to work in time with his. "So that when we move, it's like one single person, not two."

"Show me," I ask, cursing my panting tone as my hand curls around his body, clinging to his shirt tightly.

His confidence grows at my request and gently - as if not to startle me - his hand on my back lowers until it almost covers my butt. I gasp a little and he loosens his grip for a moment before re-applying it, pushing my hips forward into his own.

He meets the thrusts readily, taking care to keep the rhythm just right as he rocks my body back and forth to the tempo of the music.

It's not long before I grow more comfortable with the movement and push myself impossibly closer into him. I can feel the heat rising between our bodies, radiating off of us with each move and as I feel him start to grow harder against his thigh, my own stomach begins to coil with pleasure and I find my hips bucking forward more readily.

"See?" he asks, lifting our connected hands up to spin me around so that my butt is pressing into his front. He bends down close to my ear, licking the outer shell in a way that causes me to tremble.

"You're not so bad."

I push my ass back into him, swiveling it from side to side and leaning back with amusement as I watch his expression glaze over with lusts. His hands trail down my sides, continuing down to paw at my thighs, squeezing them tightly in his hands before trailing back up over my belly.

My eyes close as I lean my head back into Peeta's sweating chest, my hand reaching up to wrap itself around his neck tightly as I continue my movements against him.

Flashes from a few weeks ago creep to the front of my mind and as we continue to dance, all I can think about is Peeta's mouth parting with a low groan as he thrusts inside of me, his tongue swirling around my clit with ease, his arms shaking as they supported his weight above me...

And I _don't care _how I felt a week ago or a day ago or even an hour ago.

I want _more._

"Peeta?" I ask, pushing back into him hard.

"_Yesss," _he says more than asks and I turn myself around, wrapping my hands around his arms, giving them a tight squeeze. He looks to me curiously, his face sweaty and cheeks flushed as he pants gently.

"Did you maybe want to come over, tonight?"

"Honestly... I thought you might never ask."

* * *

It takes less than ten minutes from the time we arrive at my apartment to have my top, bra and pants strewn about followed closely by Peeta's shirt.

"I didn't think... you wanted me, anymore," Peeta breathes against my skin, pushing my back against the door, causing the wall to shake slightly. His hands wrap around my middle, helping to support me as I jump up, wrapping my legs around his middle.

"I never _don't_ want you," I admit shakily when I catch my breath and his lips falter in their movements across my collarbone. I catch his eyes glancing up, but they never fully make it to my face before he turns back down, his movements on my body slowing to a stop.

"What?"

"Are you sure?"

"...Am I sure, what?" I ask with a hint of confusion.

"That this is something you want."

"Peeta," I emphasize, my eyebrows furrowed when his face meets mine. "Of course."

I pull his chin up so that he's facing me and lean in to connect our lips, letting my tongue poke out in a test. He kisses back, but the passion has decreased significantly and I immediately begin cursing myself and my unpredictable mouth. I never seem to say the right thing.

"Peeta," I say, pushing my face to the side, my cheeks grazing his stubble. "What's on your mind?"

"I was just... thinking about how things got all... weird after the last time," he says hesitantly, unwilling to meet my eyes. "Why was that exactly?"

My hands loosen their grips around his neck, running themselves up into his hair, pushing it from his sweating forehead.

"Hey," I breathe, forcing his head up to face me. "Let's not talk about this right now, okay? Let's-"

"-I can't just not talk about it," he says, lowering me to the ground with deeply furrowed eyebrows. "Do you feel like it was a mistake? Because, if that's how you felt before I don't want you to wake up in the morning feeling-"

"Peeta-"

"_-Katniss."_

"I..." I sigh, my mouth hanging open as the words dry up on my lips. "This just can't become... routine... is all."

"...Routine," the word sounds funny on his lips. "What does that even mean?"

"A routine, you know like something you do over and over again-"

"I know what routine is," Peeta's voice sours. "What _I mean is_ why can't _we_ be a routine?"

"Because," I snort sarcastically, looking to him to fill in the blanks. When he stares back at me hard, I sigh deeply, running a palm over my head. "You're a porn star, Peeta."

A sarcastic chuckle bubbles forth from my lips, clinging in the silent air after my words vanish and I shake my head from left to right. Peeta watches me quietly, his deep blue eyes wide as they scan my face for deeper meaning... but there _is nothing_ deeper. There never should have been anything _deeper_ than our professional relationship between one another.

What was I thinking? That he might change? Quit his job, maybe? For _me?_

It's stupid. And I was stupid to play along with these silly games. Falling for his charm and wit and... _physical features._

When it comes down to it, Peeta Mellark is a porn star first and everything else second. There will be other girls - _always_ other girls - and in a year, I will be nothing but a good lay and forgotten memory.

It's all I can be.

"Don't sit here and act like this was going anywhere anyway," I say, my tone harsher than I intend as I bend down to collect my discarded clothing, embarrassedly. "I'm just another _thing_ for you to have sex with."

"What are you talking about?" It's the first time I've heard any sort of anger mixed into his voice and his eyes are hard, his jaw clenched tightly. "A _thing?_ That's what you think?"

"What else should I think?" I scowl, pulling my shirt over my head before shrugging dramatically. "I'm sure I'm not the first girl to be lured to the 'Infamous: Peeta Mellark's' bed!"

His expression melts to one that could almost be described as hurt for a brief second, but with a blink it's gone and fury clouds his face again.

"I didn't think you judged me for that stuff," he says lowly, his eyebrows lifting in disbelief. "I thought you understood. But, how could I have been so stupid?"

"Understood what?" I seethe back, unwilling to let it go.

But Peeta is. He laughs a little, in a way that makes it seem all the less funny and shakes his head, one hand on the door.

"Forget it. I should get going."

"Yeah, maybe you should."

He opens the door, swinging it so hard that it hits the back wall with a thud that makes me jump. I take a step forward in its direction but look down as I step on something soft.

"Your shirt," I say, picking it up and extending it out toward him.

"Keep it," he bites. "As a souvenir from your night with the 'Infamous: Peeta Mellark.'"

* * *

Hope the long chapter made up for the long wait! Thanks for being patient - juggling WIP's and a life outside of fanfiction can be a daunting task! Thanks for reading :)

Follow me on tumblr: finnickshardtrident.


End file.
